


The Conquest of Casterly Rock

by CaptainTarthister



Series: The Lannisters Are Coming [29]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Marriage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Tywin Talks to Jaime About Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6831742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime proposes to Brienne naughty ways to make Casterly Rock their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Plethora Of Choices

“There isn’t enough air going in your brain at the moment,” Brienne managed to say, sounding breathless herself. “That’s the only explanation for that ridiculous idea, husband.”

Jaime lying on his back beside her, rolled his eyes. “I’d say it’s the best idea I’ve had in a while.” He too was still catching his breath.

They lay limp and panting in bed, flushed from forehead to toes although Brienne was a lot redder. She should cover them with a blanket but her body felt heavy and limp after coming violently minutes ago. Between her pinking thighs were streaks of their come.

Jaime turned, resting his jaw on his fist while his other hand rubbed light circles on her stomach. 

Frowning, he demanded, “What’s so ridiculous about it, tell me.”

She should tell him she couldn’t think straight when he was touching her like that. Gods, her body was still recovering from their fucking and his question, in her state, was a struggle to absorb, let alone understand. Jaime looking sexy with his golden hair all ruffled and messy, his eyes still dark with desire and his skin shining with sweat—looking like a bronzed god—was not helping her string coherent thoughts, let alone the simplest sentence.

“Well, for one thing, this is your father’s place.”

“You’re a Lannister. This is your place too.” He kissed her on the shoulder as he thumbed her still-tight nipples. She squeezed her eyes shut as she fought to say something with sense.

“He invited us to celebrate Aegon’s Conquest.”

Aegon’s Conquest was a national holiday in Westeros. The celebrations were always grand and always put to shame the previous year’s. Usually, Jaime and Brienne flew off to Tarth. But their twins, Michael and Jason, began teething a month ago and were the most difficult babies to deal with right now. Brienne didn’t want them to endure the hours-long flight to Tarth and she refused to subject innocent passengers’ to her pissed-off babies. They had decided to stay in their new home when Tywin, getting wind of the news, called to invite them over for a long weekend.

Jaime would rather stay at home but Brienne pointed out that they have not celebrated the holiday with Tywin since the birth of their older twins, Drew and Ty. He whined that his father was the most difficult man around and he didn’t want to spend the long weekend dealing with him. She had scowled at him before snarling that it would be rude to turn down Tywin—that it was just as worse as Cersei and Tyrion deliberately scheduling out-of-town trips with their own families just to avoid a summons to Casterly Rock.

Despite his impatience, Jaime smirked. Dimples framed his grin. “I don’t know why you can not appreciate the logic of making our own conquest of Casterly Rock in celebration of it.”

“Casterly Rock isn’t like Tarth.”

“Really.”

“Husband, you have an army of staff here. Then there’s your father.”

“Back in Tarth are your mastodon father and uncles. A flick of their wrists and your Jaime will be broken. I don’t know why you’re scared of my father. You’re taller than him. You can probably break him over your knee,” he joked.

Still caressing her, he added, gently, “Or are you still. . .?”

After giving birth to Jason and Michael, Brienne had carried around the extra weight longer than expected. This change in her body had driven her to a minor depression. It was a frustrating situation for anyone but, as Jaime liked reminding her, they weren’t like anyone else. 

People often thought that between them, Brienne was the strategic thinker but Jaime had his moments too. When he saw a problem, he confronted it, often without giving much thought. He took to heart their doctors’ advice, which was to nurture intimacy between them. Coaxing Brienne to be more confident and telling her he found her desirable still and always took time. But convincing her had been pleasurable in more ways than could be imagined. With Brienne, Jaime learned, things always had a way of turning out a lot better than expected.

Brienne didn’t doubt that her husband found her. . .beautiful (she still stumbled over the idea) but she hated how people always stared when they were together. The question was clear in their eyes: What could this god-like man see in somebody as homey as her? She was well aware of how much she lacked in looks so at least she took care of her body. She wasn’t overzealous and didn’t deprive herself of great food but she believed in eating healthy and right. Exercise was a part of her life too. 

The extra pounds rolled off easily after giving birth to Drew and Ty—she had been thirty-two years old, then. Now older and with a slower metabolism, she had to work a lot harder to get the weight off. 

These days she liked what she saw in the mirror. Her body was once again firm and toned. She was eight pounds lighter than before she got pregnant. Some softness remained, however—the extra roundness in her cheeks, her small breasts that retained the plumpness from breastfeeding and the slight jiggle in her bottom. She still had a mountain of insecurities but not as much. Her body image contributed to her depression but not fucking Jaime did too—and how could she when she was ashamed of her droopy stomach, her wobbly thighs? 

Some of her old confidence had returned and Jaime had declared numerous times his love for the new roundness of her breasts, the softness in her thighs no amount of squats could firm up. It didn’t mean however that—

“No, Jaime. But we are still not fucking all over Casterly Rock!” She exclaimed. 

Jaime groaned and flopped on his back beside her. The force of his fall shook the mattress. “Why the fuck not?”

He looked at her. This time, Brienne rolled her eyes at him.

“I don’t see why we should,” she continued, this time rolling on her side and putting her fist under her chin. “We have a lovely room. A very comfortable bed. Jaime, there are people around all the time. We’re going to get caught—“

His eyes twinkled. “I know. Isn’t that exciting?”

She narrowed her eyes. “And if it was your father?”

“Tywin’s not going to walk in on us, I promise you.”

“But again, why?”

_“Why not?”_

Jaime turned to face her. Their bodies were near mirrors of each other, except for the obvious differences. Both were lean and muscled, strong and powerful. 

“You were so agreeable when we fucked our way through my father’s vintage car collection.”

Brienne made a sound between a grunt and gasp before she buried her face under the pillow. Enjoying her reaction, he went on:

“You were _so wet_ and you wouldn’t give my cock a break. Not that I wanted rest between our bouts. But it was fun, right? How we got so loud and the idea of getting caught anytime had us fucking harder, more furiously.” He felt himself twitching as he remembered. “Or how about when you nearly sucked my cock off at the airport in Tarth? I swore I thought I was going to die. By the Seven if I could choose my way to go, that would be it. Or when we fucked in the forest back in the Riverlands. I wanted you so much I would have fucked you through your clothes. Do you remember the weekend before your birthday, when I made you come just from sucking your tits at the back of the bowling alley?”

With every word taking her down a carnal memory lane, Brienne blushed harder. Her freckles stood out like vivid blotches on her pale skin, the colour intensifying. Her nipples were tight, aching points, and her cunt, tender still, softened as a honeyed warmth began to pool inside. She jumped as Jaime suddenly pressed the flat of his tongue on her nipple, his hands urging her on her back. He sucked noisily, drawing a throaty moan from her. He had missed this intimacy, she knew. She missed it too and so let him take his pleasure, with every lap of his tongue stoking her desire. 

Jaime suddenly grabbed the pillow from her. Brienne blinked at him, hair on her face, her eyes almost black with desire. She swallowed to fight the dryness in her mouth.

“I thought we could get some fun from this weekend. Our kind of fun. Tywin’s taken our children—we probably won’t be seeing them until we leave,” he told her, his smile tender. He brushed away the rough strands that hid her face. “Are you telling me you’d much rather grade students’ papers than fuck your husband. . .in the library?”

He traced the long length of her arm with a finger. She shivered, from his touch and the image of Jaime smirking at her knowingly, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling shelves of leatherbound, musty-smelling books. Knowing her husband very well, he wouldn't fuck her on the desk there but against the shelf, books digging in her spine and ass. “Wouldn’t you want to pin me on the floor of the armoury and fuck me until I can’t see straight, wife?”

 _Jaime leaning over her, eyes closed in pleasure, head falling back as he fucked her hard._ The place would smell of steel and sweat. Brienne’s breath was shaky. “J-Jaime.”

He stretched over her, pushed a heavily-muscled leg between hers. His eyes, too, were dark with desire. Warm breath musked with his personal spice bathed her cheeks. “Don’t you want to enslave me with your cunt in the greenhouse? Don’t you want to leave me with bruises when you fuck me on a lounge chair?”

As he spoke, his hand lowered to the hot, aching place between her thighs. Her nails dug in his shoulders as he palmed her possessively. _“Oh, Jaime.”_

"Still wet with me," he murmured arrogantly. She squirmed, gasping. Then he lowered his head and kissed her on the lips. 

Easily, his body insinuated itself between her legs. His tongue swept past her swollen lips as his finger slid inside her cunt. She gave him a hard kiss, mouth opening, tongue duelling with his. Her legs climbed to his sides before crossing her ankles on his ass. The room was filled with the sound of wet kisses and the rhythmic squelch of his finger fucking her cunt. When another finger joined inside, she clung tighter. He chuckled against her lips before his fingers suddenly slid out of her. She whimpered as he waved his slick fingers before her face. Fire licking at her cheeks, she opened her mouth and he swept his fingers inside. As she sucked, he groaned against her ear, his cock pushing against her thigh. "We taste good together, don't we?" She nodded, cheeks burning as she released his fingers. She turned to him.

“Why stop at Casterly Rock?” She gasped against his lips. She rubbed herself against his fingers, which had lowered to her cunt again, squeezed her eyes shut at the electricity that shot through her nipples upon brushing against the golden curls of his chest. “Fuck me by the Sunset Sea, Jaime.”

“Gods, I love how you improve on my ideas. That would definitely get us arrested.”

She froze. “I thought—“

He kissed her quickly. “Fuck, I’m not refusing. Of course. Of course, Brienne. _Yes._ ”

Her eyes flashed. “After all, we’re doing this because you want to piss off Tywin.”

“What? Of course not!” Jaime protested. 

“I need a good reason.” She hated that he stopped touching her. It wasn’t a bad idea but she would never tell him that fucking him in public got her all weak and very wet. Asshole that her husband was, he would take advantage with infuriating gusto. She reminded herself that she only entertained the idea of fucking in public when he came along. He had corrupted her and it felt _so fucking good._

“If we’re going to do this, we’re doing this because we want to not because you have this odd need to piss off your father or parade around with your naked wife.”

When Brienne spoke in that sure, firm voice that Jaime only heard during a lecture, it did things to his cock and knees that made him hard and shaky at the same time. He wasn’t going to tell her that, though. Brienne was awful at lying but she was so damned smart she never failed to read him ever. 

He sat back on his knees. He would rather remain between her legs with her tongue in his mouth and his fingers strumming her honey. 

“Well, actually, wife--"

" _Jaime!_ " 

"What's so wrong about getting caught fucking you? You're my wife and you're sexy. You make me want to do nothing else but fuck." 

Brienne got the pillow and used it to cover her breasts. He frowned at her. She stuck her chin up defiantly.

“I enjoy fucking you. Wherever that is. You're so. . .fuck, Brienne, you're gonna make me say it, aren't you? Fine. You're a wildcat when we fuck outside the bedroom and you come so hard. I'm an arrogant ass being so fucking proud about it because you're only like that with me. And you get so fucking wet when we fuck in public." 

Brienne cocked an eyebrow. He said smugly, “Don’t deny it. You’re extra-loud when we fuck in public.”

“It's not intentional!”

“That makes it even hotter,” he confessed.

Brienne bit her lip.

“I absolutely love giving you pleasure, wife. I'll never say no to you in that regard, unless it involves clamps or anal beads, whips. . ." He shuddered. "Handcuffs, maybe, scarves and neckties but the rest--”

Brienne scratched her head. “Anal beads?”

Her innocence made her so kissable. “Later. I ‘ll show you. On Westernet. So what do you say? Are you serious about doing work over the weekend when you can have your husband in any way you want, hmm? Just think, we'll always have this weekend when we conquered Casterly Rock, Lannister-style. You can't tell me the idea doesn't intrigue you. We've already conquered your isle, time to concentrate our efforts on the Rock, don't you think?" 

He took the pillow from her and returned to his place between her legs. Wet kisses were placed from her navel to her throat before his teeth nipped at her chin. She grabbed him by the hair suddenly, forcing him to look at her. Her smile was mischievous yet in her eyes was love. 

“What do you say, wife?”

“You’re the only man who can make such an impassioned, sweet speech about fucking in public. _How_ can I say no?”

His smile lit up the room. “You're so great. Now lie back. We're gonna be fucking in a lot of odd places and in awkward positions. Let's get you limbered up, wife.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of June 5, I made some changes in the first chapter. Thank you for reading!


	2. Something Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some sexy domesticity.

Jaime woke up alone in bed. He was lying on the spot still warm from Brienne’s body, so she had not been gone from his side for long. A small frown still formed, however, because his favorite way of waking up was waking _her_ up, with kisses and caresses that riled her up and had her sputtering in outrage that quickly softened into gasps and pleas for _more_ and _harder_ /He sniffed at her lingering vanilla scent on the pillow, smiling before he opened his eyes. 

It seemed the sun had crashed right in the suite and flared up. Wincing, he rubbed his eyes, turning away from the golden glare surrounding him. He yawned hugely and unapologetically before swinging his legs to the floor. A puddle of discarded clothes was on the floor and he picked up random pieces there.

“Wife,” he called out, then yawned again. He scratched his stomach as he stretched, nude and proud in his skin before reluctantly stepping into a pair of shorts and putting on an old t-shirt. “Wife?”

 _“Ow! Jason!”_ Came Brienne’s pained grunt. 

Jaime shuffled toward the adjoining room, the source of the sound. Their one-year-old twins, Jason and Michael, slept here. Their brothers, Drew and Ty, had somehow shanghaied Tywin into setting up a tent in the garden and sleeping there for the next two days. 

Michael was the first one Jaime saw upon slipping inside. Green-eyed with pale blond ringlets and deep dimples, he beamed up at his father and held out his plump pink arms. Jaime smiled back and crouched down in front of him, setting the baby on his lap. Michael was playing with stuffed toy blocks and seemed to get a kick out of arranging them in a straight column, judging from his squeals. As Jaime helped his son, he kept half an eye and half an ear to the ongoing fight between Jason and Brienne. 

“Jason, you’re going to have to stop kicking mommy in the face so she can put clothes on you,” Brienne pleaded, struggling to roll a pair of shorts onto Jason’s wildly kicking legs.

Jason shouted and kicked his legs more vigorously, landing a smacking one right on Brienne’s arm. As she groaned again, Jaime asked, “Need me to intervene?”

“I’m waving the white flag,” Brienne announced. Jaime gave her backside an appreciative once-over as he got to his feet. She wore a crumpled sleep tunic that ended right at her thighs, giving him lots of wonderful freckles to salivate over. He couldn’t resist squeezing her ass as he reached her, laughing as she scowled at him before she went to Michael. 

“Kick your mother again and I’m going to whoop you in the ass, young man,” Jaime mock-warned Jason as he reached for the red shorts. For a moment, Jason looked up at him, his sapphire eyes big with worry before they suddenly crinkled up with laughter and he let out a squeal. “Brat.”

“I guess it’s pretty clear who he takes after,” Brienne mused as she bopped noses with Michael before watching him arrange the stuffed toy blocks.

“Definitely not me. He’s got your mean scowl down pat, wife.” Jaime said, taking a firm hold of Jason’s legs and pushing them into the shorts. 

“I don't have problems with authority. You do.”

“Well, with my balls and your scowl, we have one formidable kid right here.” Jaime said, pushing a striped navy and white t-shirt down Jason’s head next. His hair was thin, golden blond. Now dressed, Jaime presented him to his mother. “There. Dressed and ready to go.” 

“My hero.” Brienne declared, batting her eyelashes at Jaime. 

“I’m your hero, alright.” Jaime said, winking at her. “I just saved you from another battle involving fat feet and shorts.”

“Excuse me, Ser Jaime, Miss Brienne,” came Podrick Payne’s voice, followed by a knock. “Mr. Lannister is asking if his grandchildren are ready for breakfast? He told me to get them if they are.”

“My father has zero fucks to give with me,” Jaime pretended to complain, opening the door. He nodded at the young man. “Pod, hello. Good to see you.”

Podrick Payne was now head butler of Casterly Rock despite being only in his late twenties. He was dressed in his uniform black suit that emphasized how young he was. Nevertheless, he had full run of the place and was the most trusted member among Tywin’s staff. He gave Jaime and Brienne a friendly smile before suddenly looking away when Brienne shot to her feet.

“I’ll put them in the pram and help you to the stairs, Pod,” Brienne told him, unaware of the show she was giving the men in the room.

Brienne was not beautiful, she was certainly far from attractive, but with her hair still wild from sleep and fucking, her cheeks the vivid pink of a rose and her long, amazing legs on full display, it was difficult to _not_ desire her. The hardening in Jaime’s shorts certainly confirmed so and he shot Podrick Payne a warning look. Pod, however, had taken a sudden interest at the ceiling. 

As Brienne put their sons in the conjoined pram, she stood right in the sun. The glow outlined the strong angles and slight curves of her body and Jaime certainly didn’t miss the fact that she was naked under it. When Brienne bent, he all but flew across the room to protect her _precious_ backside from accidental exposure.

“Pod, uh, would you mind straightening up our room while we get the boys ready? We’d really appreciate it.”

“Sure thing, Ser Jaime,” Pod said, sounding more relieved than he should.

Brienne, adorably unaware, continued to bend as she cooed and smiled at Jason and Michael. Jaime didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she straightened up, turned to him and asked, concerned, “What’s wrong?”

Jaime coughed and cleared his throat. “Nothing. Uh, why don’t I help Pod? Tywin definitely expects us to join him. You can get ready in the meantime.”

“Good idea. I could use a shower.” Brienne sniffed at the collar of her shirt and blushed. “I smell like you.”

“And I smell like you.” He brushed his knuckles tenderly on her cheek. 

“I’ll wear the dress you like.” Brienne suddenly offered. Her eyes dropped to her feet then peered back at him.

Jaime didn’t particularly have a favorite dress of hers. Brienne in shorts got him hard. Brienne in a baggy t-shirt made him sweat. Brienne in a potato sack would still end up flat on her back if she walked in a room wearing it. Hells, Brienne in a shapeless ski suit got him lightheaded. So he wondered what she thought was his favorite dress on her.

“This dress that I like,” he murmured, unable to resist nuzzling her neck. Wow. She did smell like him. Everything in him groaned to rub himself against her. “How short is it?”

“It’s the blue denim one. The one that’s buttoned all the way.”

 _Oh, yeah._ He remembered that dress. There was nothing special about it except that it buttoned and he absolutely enjoyed releasing each of them from their respective hole. His heart would thud right in his head as inch by inch Brienne’s flushed, freckled skin was exposed before he was able to slide the dress off her. It wasn’t very short, nor was it that long either—just an inch or two above the knee. He supposed it was his favorite on her because it was blue and buttoned. The rough cloth also put her nipples in a state of permanent tightness, hard, sweet, pink berries to be devoured. 

“I love that dress,” Jaime whispered in her ear. He licked her along the jawline. "I love getting you out of it."

“And—And—And if we’re going to do that thing we talked about last night,” Brienne stammered, once again shy, “Um, maybe—maybe I shouldn’t wear underwear.”

Seven fucking hells she was going to kill him. Jaime growled and rested his forehead against hers.

“You couldn’t just surprise me with that, wife? How the fuck do you expect me to survive breakfast knowing your cunt is wet and bare under the dress?”

Brienne narrowed her eyes at him though she was a rich, crimson colour from forehead to neck. “You always complain that I don’t tell you beforehand.”

“Next time, just surprise me. Fuck, what if we’re having pancakes with maple syrup? Do you remember that time I poured maple syrup on you?” He sucked on her collarbone.

She frowned. “I sure do, Jaime. I had a three-day itch that wouldn’t go away.” 

“Sorry.” He said, not sounding sorry at all. An infuriating grin crossed his face, widening as she blushed. He would bet his right hand she was remembering how they fucked during those three days. He would never forget her wild cries as she took him in her ass. They used a lot of lube and ruined two of their best sheets.

Her cheeks still burning, she stammered, “Next time we should just stick to ice cream and peanut butter.”

Jaime glared at her and suddenly snatched her hand to press it on his burgeoning cock. He smirked at her squeak. “Torture your husband some more, why don’t you?”

“Well, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean that.”

“We should just let Pod take care of the twins so I could tumble you back into bed and fuck you.” He wagged his eyebrows lasciviously." That's my favorite thing to do in the morning, fucking you." 

Brienne shook her head, flushing. “You are not letting poor Pod take them down the stairs by himself. You’re going to help him.” She said firmly, taking her hand away from him. 

“Will you spank me if I don’t?”

“I’ll spank you so hard you won’t be able to fuck me.”

“Cruel, wife.” He kissed her fully on the mouth. “But you do know how to get your point across.”

“Well, you do have your moments, husband.” She ruffled his hair affectionately. “You’re not a complete idiot.” 

He grinned and pressed another kiss on her shoulder. He pinched her delicious arse again, enjoying her startled, outraged gasp and the flare of red spread down to her chest. She was blushing so furiously that she had duck her head when Podrick returned. _I could just eat her up, sometimes,_ Jaime thought before turning around to face the younger man. 

“Shall we, Podrick? Best we hurry since we both know the old lion hates being kept waiting.”


	3. The Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Really?” She gasped when he released her lips to lick down the long line of her throat, nibble on her shoulder. “Now, Jaime?"

“I knew I’d find you here,” Jaime announced, his voice booming across the silence of the library and making Brienne jump. Frowning, she turned around in her seat and glared at him from the tops of her black reading glasses. The warning look did nothing—he stomped toward her, emerald eyes sparkling, dimples deepening as his grin widened across his face. She wasn’t at all surprised when he bent at the waist to kiss her fully on the mouth before dropping down with exaggerated ceremony on the seat next to her.

Scarlet spots coloured Brienne’s cheeks but she returned her attention to her book and flipped a page. Jaime snorted. “Fuck. You’re actually _reading?_ ”

“Did you expect me to just lay on the desk and spread my legs while waiting for you?” She asked, crossing her legs and biting her lip, suddenly self-conscious. The words were her own, the sass, somewhat new. She felt herself burning at her own words. 

Resolutely, she kept her attention on the text talking about the beginning of the Aegon I’s conquest of Westeros. It was interesting reading. Vivid details. Engaging writing. A solid account. 

Jaime leaned back against his seat. Though she wasn’t looking at him, she knew he smirked. “I’d like that very much. Everyday.”

“Fuck you.” But she glanced at him over her shoulder and shot him a small, affectionate smile before turning her attention back to the book. 

“That’s the problem. You’re not.” Jaime sounded wounded. Then he added, eyes sultry at the strong curve of her neck and the surprising delicateness of her collarbones exposed by the neckline of her denim dress, _“Yet.”_

As she continued to read, he trailed fingers up and down her spine. She shivered, though she only felt the press of his fingers because of the cloth that held her skin away from him. Then he ran his finger down the sensitive edge behind her ear, the line that attached it to her head. Squirming, she whispered, still reading,“That tickles.”

“Why are you whispering?” Jaime sounded amused and curious. “This may be a library but this is my father’s. Private. You won’t get sent to detention if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m surprised your father did not throw us out given your earlier behaviour.” Brienne answered, turning another page. 

Jaime liked to touch—one of the surprisingly sweet things about him. But there were times when he was deliberately infuriating with it. First, he pinched her ass just before she sat down to join Tywin and their sons for breakfast. Then he sat down next to her and promptly settled his hand on her knee. If the table were wooden or any surface that obscured the inappropriate caress, she might have been fine with it. But this was the porch, not the dining room. The table was glass and clear as ice. She tried removing his hand but he always managed to put it back, right where he shouldn’t—at least, not in front of his father! Tywin, fortunately, was too busy making airplane noises and swooping his fork dramatically in the air. He had insisted on feeding Drew and Ty. 

When Tywin left to take a phone call, Brienne had hissed at Jaime to behave and pointed out the glass. He then pointed out that the food and plates on it hid the action under the table. But seeing how uncomfortable she was, he withdrew his hand and acted like a gentleman upon his father’s return. 

After breakfast, Tywin asked if he could take the children sailing. Brienne offered to go with them but Tywin told her to rest and relax. Besides, he was taking Podrick and Jory, both certified lifeguards. While indeed it was reassuring, she still felt embarrassed. Tywin had beamed at her and kissed her on the cheek, his glass-emerald eyes displaying a rare flicker of warmth that was only present when his gooddaughter was around. Jaime had to bite back a proud smile. _Favorite Lannister, that she is._

The sudden free time in their hands had Brienne thinking that maybe she and Jaime could hit the weekend market and stock up on supplies for the holiday. But then Bronn called and from the frown on Jaime’s face, it was clear it was going to take a while. 

Brienne kissed her husband gently on the lips, smiled at him so he’ll know she didn’t mind, and went off to entertain herself. Of course her feet took her to the library.

The library at Casterly Rock hands down was her favorite private library—after the one back in Evenfall. Maybe because the library back home had yet to be organized—popular paperbacks were shelved with rare treatises, books detailing the history of the Stormlands with bound academic journals—or the books here catered more to her interest. Brienne loved Westerosi literature, and the focus of her study was High Valyrian literature. History was another subject she enjoyed and could only imagine how terrifying it must have been when the Targaryens conquered Westeros with their dragons. She thought them cool and would still stare in awe at the impressive fossil displays at the Westeros Natural History Museum; nevertheless, she was grateful to live in an era where they were extinct. 

Brienne ran a long finger down the page at the same time that Jaime leaned toward her and thrust his tongue around the shell of her ear. Pinking, she tried to turn to give him a warning look, though her body was wired with anticipation of what he would do next. Tried because Jaime slipped his hand under her skirt and between her thighs. 

Her head fell back as a sure finger delved between the folds of her slickening cunt, a thumb flicked at the stiff button of her nub. She pushed the book away. “My wife,” Jaime whispered hotly in her ear as he continued his bold caresses. “Don’t you want me?” A smile warmed his voice. “Would you rather read than fuck your horny husband?”

Brienne managed to tear herself away from him just far enough but without him having to retract his wicked fingers from that needy place. _“Now?”_ She gasped, eyes owlish with surprise. “You want to fuck now?”

Suddenly, he pulled his fingers out. She mewled at the loss but quickly quieted when he plucked the top three buttons of her dress. She bit her lip as his black pupils began to overwhelm the beautiful green of his eyes. 

“I thought,” he said, pausing to lick her throat and suck at the skin,”I thought we’re fucking here.”

“But now?” She practically squeaked as his hand returned to the hot ache between her legs. Her eyes practically crossed in pleasure. “J-Jaime it’s—it’s the middle of the day!” Her protest ended in a strained gasp.

“So?” He murmured. He nuzzled his nose against her cheek, the arc between her shoulder and neck. He was clean-shaven now but his jaw was already rough with a beginning stubble. He sniffed sharply. “You smell so fucking good. You smell like _you_ want to fuck me.” 

Her head whipped to the door behind the shelves then toward the windows right next to the desk. “Someone would definitely be coming in!”

“Let’s hope it’s me.” Suddenly, Jaime was standing up and roughly pulling her up with him. Still trying to get her head around the idea that her husband fully intended to fuck her in the library in the glaringly bright light of the day, she could only watch as he unbuttoned her dress. Done, he slid it off and tossed it toward the shelves. She screeched in protest but his mouth was quickly on her, his hands cupping her small but plump breasts, fingers pulling and pinching at her nipples. The kiss deepened, causing her to fall on her back on the desk clutching at his shoulders, her legs opening to accommodate his slim hips. She hissed as the cold buckle of his belt pressed right on her clit. Yet she thrust against it, rubbed against it. The honey dripping from her cunt gave her the warmth needed to find pleasure in the act against something as cold as ice. He palmed her under her buttocks, down her thighs, her legs, guiding them around his waist. Her hands drifted to his neck, lips parting for his tongue to seek her own and caress. She kissed him back, matching his ferocity. His groan filled her mouth.

“Really?” She gasped when he released her lips to lick down the long line of her throat, nibble on her shoulder. “Now, Jaime?” 

His smile was all play and lust as he looked up at her from between her breasts. Her nipples were hard red little buttons, aching and wanting. “ _Now._ Isn’t it exciting?”

Still, she glanced at the windows. The vast, verdant estate of Casterly Rock was right outside, and with it gardeners, servants, staff—

Jaime, seeing her distraction, leaped right into the next course of action: he claimed her nipple in his mouth and started to suck.  
“Oh, gods.” She cried out, snatched right back into the moment. _“Jaime.”_

She was a mass of knots as he took leisurely pulls from her nipple before moving to the next. As he did this, his fingers sank her cunt, drawing more of her honey, sliding deeper with each thrust as she was stretched open. Her fingers tugged at his hair, her hips rocked against his fingers, not knowing what she wanted, only that she needed more of the burn, needed it harder, faster, _rougher._ It was easy to get lost in the storm of sensations Jaime drew from her. It was like being flung in a tornado, she felt like a ship tossed in all directions in a violent, swirling sea. _Release,_ her body screamed as he took a particularly hard draw from her nipple, his cheeks hollowing from the effort. 

When she began to ripple around his fingers, he fucked her more vigorously and returned his mouth to her lips. She was reduced to a gasping, writhing thing at this point, her lips half-parted as Jaime licked at he corners, nibbled on the plump, red, glistening bit of tissue. She grunted against his tongue when she came, hips snapping and pushing toward his fingers, gripping them as if to snap them off his hand. Through it all, he kissed her, fiery brushes of lips to the gentlest, the touch so light she thought it a dream, a whisper, if not for the cloud of soap, aftershave and Jaime’s fragrant skin wrapping her in a cocoon. His fingers, having sped up to keep up with her orgasm, were slow pushes inside her cunt now. A final squeeze, her hips rising from the desk before she collapsed heavily, panting.

Jaime pulled his fingers out, his eyes hot and the expression on his face a tight mask that made her heart pound though she was still catching her breath. His eyes took in the deep pink flush all over her body, her bright, sapphire eyes, her swollen lips. Sweat gleamed from her breasts, down to the strong, boyish span of her waist. Her dirty-blond curls were dark and soaked. His sudden, tender kiss on her thatch made her jump and he stood up, his grin that of a very satisfied male. She would shoot him a glare if not for the relief that made her limp as a kitten.

During his perusal of her, Brienne was doing her own with him. Jaime was still dressed but the tension coiled in his body was evident in the stiff set of his shoulders and his hands curls into fists. His jeans were loose but his erection was thick and bulging, straining the zipper. She would get up if she weren’t so bloody useless right now, she would get up and drop to her knees and suck his beautiful cock but she couldn’t even turn her head. This was how Jaime Lannister always destroyed her. She could only look at him with longing, the embers of her desire awakening once again. 

Suddenly, his face cleared though the tension remained in his body. She watched, dazed, as he unzipped his jeans and dropped them to the floor. The most beautiful cock in the universe pointed straight toward her, and in the light of sun the round, bulbous head gleamed with that tell-tale drop of moisture. His smile strained, he fisted himself, spreading the moisture with his thumb around the head and to his thick shaft bulging with veins. Her moan filled the library.

Jaime tore off his shirt and then grabbed her right leg and pulled it toward his shoulder, licking her from calf to ankle. Positioning himself between her spread legs, he got his cock again and began to guide it to her warm entrance, still shuddering from the aftershocks of her release. 

Gone was the ferocity of earlier—Jaime fucked her with long but easy thrusts, head falling back, mouth falling open before straightening and looking at her hungrily. She obeyed his husky command to play with her nipples and the result was her cunt walls squeezing him harder. He held her leg to his shoulder, his thumb rotating her clit as he continued with lunges so gentle it was driving her mad. Her fingers on her nipples contributed to the conflagration racing in her body.

Jaime’s thumb threw her to another breathless release. As she gasped and grunted, his gentle thrusts transformed into erratic, frantic motions pounding hard into her cunt. Once again she cried out, and she had to press her palms flat on the smooth surface of the desk lest he’d end up fucking her right toward the other edge. But she couldn’t—there was no friction at all. Her arms flew ot the sides, knocking the book on Aegon's conquest ot the floor. She dug her nails on the desk and there, _there,_ she could stay. She could meet his thrusts. Jaime still held her leg on his shoulder but his other hand joined hers gripping the edge of the desk. Hard waves of his warm breath hit her face, hinted with coffee. Her breasts shook from the violence of their joining. She inhaled deeply. He grinned, green eyes playful. She smiled back, blushing. Their mouths fused for a deep, sucking kiss before she suddenly snapped her head back, thudding heavily on the table.

For the third time this morning, she came, shouting. Jaime was with her this time. They moved against each other, sapphire and emerald eyes wild and hot with lust. As she peaked, he thrust three more times before growling, whipping his head back, the tendons and veins in his neck straining under his golden skin. A familiar warmth began to flood her womb and she sighed, her hips softening, her hands falling to the sides. Jaime released her leg and collapsed on top of her, heavy and warm, both of them slick with sweat. He whispered her name as she ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him for a kiss. 

Jaime took her two more times—once against the shelves, his fingers digging in the soft flesh of her buttocks, then on the floor, her on her hands and knees. They were bruised and flushed, their skins pink with the burn from the carpet and rubbing against each other. They got dressed—she in his shirt because he had flung her dress somewhere behind the shelves. Neither could move much. He zipped up his pants, his motions languid and threaded with the need for sleep and rest. She felt mushy and weak—they wouldn’t make it back to their bedroom. He agreed and proposed they recover on the chaise lounge.

Brienne looked at it dubiously. Curved and a rich, deep crimson, it was more beautiful than practical. She knew it was an antique but looked like it was only upholstered yesterday. Despite its charm, she didn’t trust it: it was neither long enough nor wide enough to accommodate their tall, broad frames.

Seeing her frown, he assured her, “We’ll fit, don’t worry.”

“If we saw off six inches off our legs probably,” she retorted.

Jaime rolled his eyes and plunked down, stretching fully. His feet dangled off the edge. More unconvinced than ever, she proposed they man up and try to make it to their bedroom.

“Wife,” he growled impatiently. He was lying on his side, golden, sleepy, looking like the lion his house who had just conquered the universe.“Get over here. Now.”

“I’m taller than you. I won’t fit.”

“Trust me.”

With a huff, she dropped on the itty-bitty chair and stretched out. She turned on her side and she heard and felt Jaime do the same behind her. As she shifted and twisted, he slipped his leg between her thighs. 

Then started pulling the shirt up.

Shocked, she demanded, “What are you doing?”

“Pilates,” came his snarky reply. He yanked it to her waist despite her trying to pull it down. “Quit it. The only way we’ll fit is to be as close as possible.” He squeezed her hip.

“Then why are you stripping me again? I’m tired, husband.”

“So am I. But as I said, as close as possible.”

And with that, his arm snuck around her waist, pressing her against him. She gasped as she felt the familiar hardness of his cock pushing between the cheeks of her ass. She blushed--it had been so long since he had fucked her there and she just realized she missed it. Then his hand lowered to her cunt before two fingers slipped inside her. “Oh,” she groaned, quickly clenching. 

“You’re still dripping,” he marvelled, giving her a couple of rough strokes as she squirmed. "I'd like to keep you wet for later, wife. Can't wait to fuck you again." He felt her blush, her entire body go warmer. He bit her shoulder playfully.

“I knew you had something nefarious under all that argument about space and having to be `as close as possible.’” But there was no hostility to her delivery, not when his fingers were inside. She closed her eyes out of tiredness and pleasure.

“So glad I married a smart woman,” he teased her, nuzzling her nape. 

“Bloody idiot,” she muttered, moaning as he started sliding his fingers in and out of her again, as if he had all the time in the world. Still, she was breathless. 

“Ha. But you fell for it,” he mumbled against her skin. “Sleep. When we wake up, we’ll fuck again. You've worn me out. Fucking your tight cunt takes everything I have.” But he said the words with glee. She would turn around to frown at him if he wasn't unleashing _astounding_ magic between her legs right now. She tightened around him and he grunted before kissing her hungrily on her throat.

“We’ll fuck again in bed,” she clarified. His finger bumped a _very_ sensitive spot. "Oh. _Jaime."_

“Hmm, Brienne. We’ll see.” He licked her neck. "You're delicious."

Her eyelids were getting heavy. But her mind wouldn’t rest until she asked him the question that had been nagging her in the last few minutes.

“It’s the middle of the day and no one has come in to clean.”

Jaime was quiet, his fingers continuing their lazy pace before stopping, still buried inside her. She was about to repeat the question when he started snoring.


	4. Silverhill Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne take the action outside of Casterly Rock.

That same afternoon, Jaime and Brienne went for a drive around Lannisport. They spent the morning recovering in the library, with Jaime waking up first and finding Brienne sound asleep in his arms. He would be happy to hold her as such the whole day but her beautiful eyes opened seconds later, squinting at him, blinking up at him, a frown twisting her face before clearing, followed by a soft, sleepy smile. It was the easiest thing to lean over her, nudge her legs apart and push his cock inside her but he was happy enough to just smile back at her and kiss her tenderly on the cheek. He stared down into her eyes, the moment the sum of all things wonderful. 

As they changed clothes in the bedroom,Jaime suggested they go out for lunch and drive around. Again, he would much rather spend the rest of the day fucking his wife and going deaf at her cries but he knew she loved being active. They had been together for a long time but he had not really given her a tour around Lannisport since their stay would only be a few days or even shorter, and often with other family members. 

Lannisport was supposed to be home but Jaime had left when he was fifteen, when Tywin sent him to boarding school in Vale Prep. He returned during summer vacations but the place had become a stranger to him. The death of Joanna a few years ago had made it all the more unknown despite landmarks and familiar scents that should evoke home. Only when Brienne came into his life did he start going back. Now that they had children—sons who would demand to know what their father did at their age, what he liked as a child, as a teenager, Jaime felt a strong urgency to keep ties to the place, no matter how tenuous it felt.

So they drove, swinging by his old elementary school, now with more buildings but still a generic tan and yellow. They went to Crakehall Zoo, where his mother used to take him, Cersei and Tyrion on weekends and treat them popsicle, telling them with a gleam in her beautiful emerald eyes that the indulgence was their secret. So he bought Brienne an popsicle , as was tradition in his family. They walked holding hands, looking but not really—he was touched at the seriousness of his wife’s face, as if she were cataloguing and filing them in a secret drawer in her head. Nobody had taken this kind of interest in him before until Brienne. He read the longing in her eyes too, and he knew she was missing their sons, especially as he caught her gazing wistfully at a family with two rambunctious little boys.

As the day grew warmer and the sun climbed higher, so did their appetite. It made sense to take Brienne to one of the restaurants—Lannisport had a lot of great restaurants—but he liked seeing her in the sun too much right now. Her denim dress-crumpled and covered in dust balls—was now in a hamper in the bathroom. She had replaced it with an unexpected pale blue peasant blouse with white stitching around the collar and puffy sleeves—a bit too feminine for her usual taste but Jaime loved how the colour emphasized her pale, freckled skin, how the vivid sapphire of her eyes seemed to match the light colours of the stop—almost that of the sky. Her shorts were faded denim cut-offs showing to the world how strong and muscular her thighs were, how long her legs. She was delectable and didn’t know it, making her more enticing to Jaime’s eyes.

So Jaime took her to the weekend market. It was crowded and the noise level deafening but Brienne had looked around with a huge, excited smile, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink under the sun. 

They stocked up on freshly-baked, artisanal bread, cold cuts, fresh cheeses. Brienne steered him to a vegetable stand where they stocked up on tomatoes and lettuce. Then Jaime, catching a whiff of sugar, followed the scent of the trail. She laughed behind him as he tugged her towards a stall selling cakes and pastries straight out of a dream. They got Tywin a box of of ultra-moist revel bars while they ordered two slices of raspberry cream pie for themselves. They continued their tour of the weekend market, buying more stuff.

Laden with packages and bags, they made their way back to the car. “Where are we off to next?” Brienne asked, climbing in.

The rough, straw-blond strands of her bob were on her forehead, her cheeks. Her face was red and so were her shoulders, down to her arms. She looked carefree and fresh. He reached out to cup her cheek in his hand and she smiled at him, gently, shyly, flushing deeper as she turned her head to kiss his palm. 

“I love you, Jaime,” she whispered, eyes looking very blue. 

His breath hitched. “Don’t stop.”

She held his hand to her face, cradling it between cheek and shoulder. “You could tell me you love me back,” she chided him gently.

He chuckled and grinned at her. “I do love you. More and more everyday.”

“Damn it, husband. Why are you always better?” She growled, but the shine in her eyes told him she was just playing with him. He relished the reluctance of her dropping his hand as she sat down and slammed the door. 

“Well,” he said, “it could be because you make me better.”

She rolled her eyes, blushing. “You’re _so_ cheesy.”

“You like me cheesy. Now buckle up.”

They arrived at Silverhill Forest twenty minutes later. As they got their things from the car, Brienne let out a sigh. She shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun as she looked at the thick cluster of trees that stool tall and proud in the sun. Around her was the scent of leaves and bark, recalling an older era, a much older era. 

“My family used to go on picnics here a lot,” Jaime told her as they walked. 

“Used to?” She blurted out then, realizing why, she muttered. “Oh, Jaime. I’m so sorry.”

He kissed her quickly on the mouth. “It’s alright.” And it really was. 

He took her hand, loving the sure, warm grip wrapping around him instead. Jaime was six-foot-two, with long strides. One of the many things he appreciated about Brienne was he never had to slow down for her, nor had she asked. He did wonder if she willed her long legs to slow down a bit so he could keep up. It was a pleasant, sweet thought that he suddenly pulled her to a stop. She turned to him, curious, as he wrapped his arms around her—filled with bags—and tipped his chin up. She breathed his name, in exasperation or desire, he didn’t really care, just that when she said it he had to hold her tighter. She lowered her head, giving him the kiss he asked for.

Her mouth was warm and she tasted like sunlight. “Brienne,” he groaned, tongue tracing the full, plump curve of her wide mouth, begging to be let inside. He felt her nod and her lips parted. Eagerly, he sought her tongue.

When the kiss ended, he grinned at her. He was weak in the knees and he was sure he looked like an idiot with his lopsided grin. She didn’t look any better, blinking rapidly, licking her swollen lips. He couldn’t resist giving her another kiss, swift and full, and then he was taking her by hand again.

The forest had grown thicker but he still saw the old trails, in his mind the old markers were still there. He grinned upon hearing the wild rush of a stream, telling him they were approaching a good spot. 

They spread out an old blanket on the grass. They kicked off their shoes and sat down, rooting in their packages. The stalls had been able to provide them with disposable utensils and Brienne was using one of the knives to saw through the crusty roll of bread as Jaime assembled the ingredients for their sandwiches. Both were starving, so once the sandwiches were ready, they plunked down on the mat, folding their legs under them, and began to eat.  
Very little conversation passed between but neither was worried. Brienne liked to tease Jaime of being incapable of shutting up but moments like this proved her wrong. There was a lot of Brienne that could never be put into words, so this was where Jaime was thankful to see her, listen to her, appreciate the entirely of her. The sun was higher, the day getting warmer and the redness of her nape was getting more vivid, as well as at the back of her shoulders, her amazing legs, long, freckled and stretched out before her. He told her they should seek shade, pointing out the beginnings of a burn on her nape with a tender swipe of his fingers. They took the blanket and their food and retreated to the trees.

Jaime leaned against the back of one and spread his legs, caught Brienne’s gaze. Understanding, she sat between them. It would be better, probably, if they reversed positions—he was shorter by a hairline—but he liked holding her in his arms, this massive, breathtaking, giant of a woman. He leaned against the tree, taking her with him. 

Brienne uncorked the bottle of wine, a bold, full-bodied red from Dorne. She offered him the first sip but he insisted she taste it first. They didn’t have a glass, but a picnic, in the forest, they could break the rules and drink straight from the bottle. He watched her tip her head back and guide the bottle to her lips, her throat shifting up and down as she swallowed. Then she was offering it to him again; this time he took a pull.

They finished their sandwiches, fed each other raspberry cream pie and went through half of the wine before their heads felt heavy and the sun became too bright, burning through their eyelids even when shut. Together, they lay fully on the blanket, Jaime smirking as Brienne sought for protection from the glare searing into her eyes by nuzzling his armpit like a kitten seeking. His smile became a robust chuckle as his arms wrapped around her waist and he had her slide her leg between his. Soon, her body softened, sinking heavily into him and his arms began to go numb. But he kept his hold on her, breathed in the scent of her vanilla shampoo, sunlight, the lush, earthy smell around them and surrendered to the lull of sleep.

He had no idea how long they slept but when he woke up, daylight had receded into a soft, pale yellow glow although the sky was still blue. He raised his arm to rub his eyes and that was when he remembered the freckled bundle still gathered in his embrace, clinging to him. Her knee was right against his crotch, and now he knew why had awakened. So he rolled Brienne onto her back and began kissing her awake.

She murmured, mumbled, whispered a lot, frowned, two deep lines forming between her thick, pale eyebrows before her eyes opened, blinking up at him sleepily. Jaime smiled at her and ducked down for another kiss, this time on her throat. She tugged gently at his hair as he briefly lipped her breasts through her blouse, rubbed his erection against her thigh. Then she was rolling him on his back, leaning over him, her eyes in full sparkle mode.

“Yes,” he hissed as she ran her tongue around his jaw, kissed him on the throat before playfully nipping at his collarbone. She nuzzled his chest, moaning his name as her hands pulled at his t-shirt. Her kisses were the gentle flutter of butterfly wings, tingling yet potent. It was the easiest thing to just lay back and watch her long body move down and over his, to watch the sun bathe her straw-blond hair and render it platinum, and seem to light her from the inside because she was glowing and yes, truly beautiful.

Kneeling between his legs, she rested her chin on the hard plane of his stomach, red-cheeked and bright-eyed. She nuzzled her nose against his shirt until it rose, revealing his belly button, his ribs, the golden mat of curls on his chest. His breathing were raspy bursts of air higher and higher his shirt went until it was gathered at his neck. 

Rubbing her cheeks and nose against his chest, Brienne whispered, dreamily, “Husband, you smell so good.” Looking at him, she opened her mouth and circled her tongue around his flat nipple before sucking it. Jaime grunted, breathing sharply, arching against her as she continued kissing him. She hummed, the vibrations causing him to tense even more. As she bit playfully at the bulge of muscles before she moved to his other nipple, she added, “Now I know why you like doing this to me.”

Jaime was hard in his pants, and her hips pressed against him was a new kind of hell. “What have you found out?” He gasped, pushing his fingers through her rough hair. She laughed and sucked loudly at his nipple. “Fucking hell, Brienne!”

“You smell different here. Softer and stronger at the same time.” She said between kissing him around his breast, head bobbing up and down. “You also look like I’m torturing you but you love it.”

Gods above, he had to come up with new moves soon or Brienne would soon be reading him like a book and outmanoeuvring him. Brienne as a seductress drew all the breath from his lungs and it would mean his death, that was for sure. He tried pulling her away from him but she shook his fingers away, giggling, and continued to kiss her way down to his stomach. When she dipped her tongue in his navel, he grunted and clutched at her shoulders.

“Stay still, husband,” she ordered him, reaching for his belt.

Her command drew him tight. “What are you going—what are you doing?” Jaime squeaked as she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his shorts with the deftest, most graceful, biggest hands. Brienne smirked at him, her eyes big and darkening with desire before he pulled his shorts and boxers down his legs in one smooth sweep. 

Then she rose on her knees, a nymph, a witch, a faerie—he didn’t know. But she didn’t seem real, what with the hunger radiating from her eyes and how she kept licking her full lips as she looked at his face before making a leisurely traverse down his stomach then his cock. Jaime’s hands dug on the grass and earth under him as she gently wrapped a fist around him.

“Not so hard,” he gasped when she squeezed too eagerly.

“Your cock is so beautiful,” Brienne said, her eyes falling briefly to her lap before drifting to his face again then back to the erection that was steadily growing in her hand. “It’s so smooth and the veins—“ without warning, she lowered her head and licked the bulging veins at the underside. Jaime howled, ripping some grass.

It was just the beginning. Her sentence unfinished, Brienne proceeded to show what she thought of his cock. Her tongue was a wet, long swipe tracing the veins, measuring his length, circling the width. She gripped it and ran her tongue round and round his cockhead, reminding him of the way she licked her popsicle earlier. She started humming again, the sound indulgent and hungry yet also satisfied, as if she were partaking in a feast. Jaime heard his heart pounding. He was light-headed at the _insane_ speed of the blood racing his veins. 

“Brienne,” he found himself pleading as she pushed his cock a bit so she could take a deep sniff of his balls and suck them, lick them. 

“You smell so good here. Always like soap and you,” she said, sounding a little breathless herself before wrapping her lips around his cockhead and sucking.

_“Brienne!”_

She slowly began to tip forward as she carefully began to pull him deeper into the warm glove of her mouth. Jaime’s green eyes widened and he started pumping against her face.

_“Fuck, Brienne!”_

But she didn’t stop, her mouth opening wider and wider to accommodate the broadening width of his cock because it was widest at the base. Jaime closed his eyes as he bumped against the back of her throat.

Brienne moaned.

“Fuuuck!” His shout was ragged but he could’t hear himself—only the wet sounds of Brienne’s kisses, the violent beat of his heart, the hot rush of blood in his ears. His eyes opened and watched as Brienne’s head moved up and down, quickly, lips pursing and widening. He managed to let go of the grass he was clutching to grip her by the hair and fuck her mouth. He felt something pop from inside her and to his shock and delight, his cock was now deeper in her throat. He tightened his fingers around her hair and urged her to move at a rough, frantic pace that was bound to kill him. 

He shot his load right into her throat and he heard her gag, felt her begin to pull away but she resolutely kept bobbing her head up and down. As Jaime panted, his fingers loosened from her hair although Brienne was still actively sucking him, moaning and humming. She didn’t stop until he came with a roar—and a terrifying roar it must be because birds perched peacefully in the trees suddenly took flight in panic, storming the sky.

Feeling Jaime going soft, Brienne started to pull away until she could sit back. Though Jaime was still riding the pleasure highway, he was immensely satisfied at the thread of semen at the corner of her swollen mouth. He was disappointed when she wiped it off with the back of her hand but she smiled at him, not the smug smile of a seductress but a heartbreakingly innocent smile of one who had taken pleasure at his pleasure. A tightness in his chest lingered, his heartbeat, though it had eased up, was still fast. He barely managed a smile.

He grunted when Brienne suddenly crashed down next to him. She would have knocked him down if he wasn’t already. As she made herself comfortable in the cook between his arm and chest, he kissed her on the forehead and asked, “What did you do that for? Not that I’m complaining, wife.”

Sapphires flashed at him. “I wanted to, that’s all?”

“You minx.” He chuckled, wrapping her in his arms and his legs. Her denim shorts were rough against his still-sensitive cock but she felt too good to be let go. Now that he could breathe normally, he added, “Dinners with my father would be so much easier if you’re sucking my cock.”

She pinched him on his side, making him yelp. He retaliated by smacking her bottom.

“Or maybe I should be the one under the table, fucking you with my tongue.” He said. “I like dessert to come first.”

He felt her body temperature rise.“Not happening, Lannister.”

“As in never?”

“You're an idiot” She scolded him gently.

“After what you just did, do you really expect me to make sense?” 

“Well, I guess that settles one thing,” she said breezily, returning her head to his chest. Jaime rubbed his lips against her hair. 

“What?”

“I’m driving.”

“You almost killed me, wife. But I’m still breathing. _I’m_ driving us back.”

Brienne raised her head and winked. “You want me to try killing you again?” Her cheeks turned redder with every word. 

Before Jaime could answer, she started sliding down his body again. When her warm breath bathed his cock just before her wonderful lips wrapped around it, he wondered if he was really that big of an idiot to fight something like this. So he lay back and surrendered to the devastation brought by her innocent, eager kisses, flinging her name to the sky until he was hoarse.


	5. The Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some privacy for our dorks this time. . .maybe.

Brienne didn’t always do as her husband asked but this time, she followed his instructions on the fastest route back to Casterly Rock. Once parked, they barely mustered a polite enough greeting for a butler that met them at the door before running to their bedroom.

Their shorts hit the floor as soon as the door was shut and Brienne groaned as Jaime slammed her against it. Desire and lust clouded her brain so she hardly felt the carvings digging in her back and bottom as Jaime fucked her against it. She wasn’t very wet, he had to thrust several times before her cunt opened enough but the slight discomfort made her tighter and had him fucking her like a crazed bull. She had one leg wrapped around him but it was clearly not enough—he picked up her other leg, opening her, thrusting deeper into her, pinning her against the door. Her blouse made was slippery, she hissed it so and Jaime allowed her to drop one leg to the floor just long enough to drag the garment off. As it flew, he slammed her back to the door, ordered her to wrap her legs around him and continued fucking her. She screamed as she came, nails digging in his shoulders.

Jaime, who had bitten on her shoulder as he found relief inside her, slowly raised his head. They were slick with sweat, and sweating still, and Brienne knew she was redder than her husband. Both of them still gasping for breath, they just looked at each other, looking until the haze of their release cleared. Brienne continued to rest her head against the door though her legs started to slip from Jaime’s waist. She swallowed at the softness in his eyes before he took her lips in a kiss that was deep but gentle, almost hesitant, with none of the ferocity from earlier but just as hungry. Probably hungrier.

“ _I fucking love you,_ ” he hissed against her lips. She clasped his head in her hands and kissed him back, nodding weakly. "You giant, beast of a woman, I fucking love you." 

She lost herself in the slow fire his kisses were building. Time was measured by the increasing pace of their breaths, their lips against each other, the careful swipe of tongues. Then he was removing them from the door although she continued to hold him, her arms around his shoulder and waist this time. Jaime drew away a little then looked at something on her hair, a happy smile spreading across his face.

“What?”

In answer, he plucked a couple of blades of grass and twigs from her hair. “At what point did you end up on your back to get these? Memory tells me I was the one on my back.” She blushed as he continued freeing her hair from twigs. “I remember everything, wife,” he whispered hotly in her ear, making her shiver.

“Shower?” She asked, removing some grass and twigs from his hair.

He nodded and grasped her by hand. 

Their shower was quick but Jaime made sure to sneak in a caress or two, a kiss here and there. Ten minutes later, they were wrapped in thick towelled robes. Brienne glanced outside of the window and commented that Tywin should bring their sons home soon. Jaime assured her they were on their way home and steered her to bed. 

Minutes later, Jaime was tracing the long seam of Brienne’s cunt with long, lazy swipes of his tongue, making occasional dips past her pink folds and lower to the dark crevice between her buttocks. She cried out in surprise at the latter touch, her eyes huge and a wordless question formed by her quickening breath. He smiled at her and wetted a finger in her cunt, twirling it until there was enough moisture to slide it lower, a little lower, to that place that surprised her again. "You like this, wife," he whispered, fucking her cunt and between the cheeks of her ass at the same time. Her agreement was in the sexy, harsh grunts that became harder, louder, with every pump of his fingers. Brienne gripped the sheets when Jaime started sucking on her clit in tandem with his fingers still fucking her cunt and another in her ass. She was chanting his name when she suddenly stiffened. He knew her body quite well and recognized that she was panicked rather than approaching orgasm. Frowning, he raised his head from between her thighs, his lips and chin slick with her honey. She was trying to sit up, her eyes big as saucers. 

Then he heard it: the storm of footsteps racing for their door followed by a rain of small fists. He quickly removed his hand. Brienne shot out of bed, naked and flushed, glorious in her panic as she pawed on the floor for the robe he had pushed off her shoulders before taking her. Jaime laughed and groaned in frustration, tying the belt of his robe securely. “I am going to kill you, Lannister,” she hissed, wrenching on her robe as a knock, firm and authoritative, came to their door.

“Jaime? Brienne?” It was Tywin.

“Oh gods,” Brienne gasped.

“You don’t have a boner,” Jaime told her, grimacing but heading for the door. He wiped the sleeve of his robe acorss his mouth. Before opening the door, he glanced at his wife, red in the face, adorably mussed, bathrobe belted tight, collar raised to her jaw. His nostrils detected the faint scent of her arousal—she was still wet—and she looked as if he had just fucked her brains out. Smirking, he opened it and Drew and Ty barrelled in.

“Daddy!” They exclaimed, throwing their arms around his legs. He was about to hug them when they noticed their mother, shifting her weight awkwardly on one foot then the next. “Mommy!” And ran toward her.

“My loves,” Brienne told them, her smile almost making her look pretty as she dropped to their knees and opened her arms. Drew was the first to reach her, his plump arms encircling her neck. Ty followed soon after, his arms going around his brother and mother. Jaime smiled at them before turning to face Tywin, who was wheeling the pram into the room. Jason and Michael looked drowsy but they beamed upon seeing their father.

“You have very active sons,” Tywin announced proudly as Brienne straightened up, taking Drew and Ty by their hands. Jaime bent to remove Michael from the pram first then Jason. "Lions in the making."

“Gram’pa taught us to catch fish!” Ty reported loudly.

“An’ we ‘ad lobster!” Drew added.

“You know how to fish, Tywin?” Brienne asked, genuinely curious. “I didn’t know that.”

Jaime wanted to laugh as Tywin flushed. “Er, ah, Jory and Pod, actually. I just provided the boat.”

“We have many fish!” Drew continued, steering Brienne to the door. “Come see, Mommy!”

“Hold on, young man,” Tywin said gently, but in a voice that made the boys’ head snap in his direction, Jason and Michael included. “You’ve had a full day and you were complaining in the car just a while ago that you want to go to bed. You can’t go to bed without a bath.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna smell like a fish!” Ty teased his brother.

“Your grandfather’s right.” Brienne agreed. “And you can tell me about all the fish you caught in the bath.”

So off for a bath the Lannisters went. Jaime decided it was better to put all the children in the tub—it was wide and long, and when he and Brienne had enjoyed a dip there, there was still more than enough room. The children were delighted by it—“Like swimming!”--Drew declared as he splashed water toward Michael, who squealed and retaliated. Brienne had them close their eyes as she rinsed the shampoo. Truth be told, their children smelled quite funky and they had to be scrubbed and soaped and shampooed thoroughly so they were back to their natural, sweet-smelling selves. 

Then they dressed the children for bed. For the moment, they were all in the room that adjoined hers and Jaime—it was only a little smaller, anyway. Brienne sat on a rocking chair and read them a story. Brienne sat on the floor with Jason on his lap, Michael leaning against Ty and Drew also leaning against his twin. 

Brienne’s voice was animated and switched between characters. Jaime thought that rather than lulling their boys to sleep, it enticed them even more—hells, he was more than enticed. She continued reading, wonderfully unaware of the worshipful, enthralled looks the four children were giving her and the heated, desirous look radiating from the eyes of one man. She fumbled upon noticing this, blushing violently. When she finished, they tucked the children in bed.

They had just returned to the bedroom when a servant knocked and reminded them that supper would be in half an hour. Jaime thanked the man and closed the door, turning to Brienne with a predatory smile.

Flushing, she glanced at her feet again and whispered, “Jaime, no. We’ll wake the children.”

He walked toward her, slowly and confidently, a predator savouring his trapped prey. “Then we’ll be quiet,” he told her, hands dropping to her waist before reaching for the knot of her robe. He kissed her behind the ear and smiled. “ _You_ be quiet.”

She blushed, nodding. Her body had been humming with want and the tension within her begged to be snapped. As he slipped her robe off, she told him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, “We’ll have to be fast, husband. We don’t want to keep your father waiting.”

“Fuck, wife,” Jaime rolled his eyes as he pulled his head back to look at her. “You talk about my father right this moment?”

She bit her lip and blurted out, “Would you rather when you’re fucking me?”

He grinned and inclined his head toward the bed. “Fast, then. But I want to taste you first.”

Brienne managed a shaky nod, not out of fear but due to excitement. She lay on the bed, her eyes looking up at Jaime expectantly as he shrugged off his robe. 

If the Warrior were made flesh, he would look like her husband. Jaime Lannister was easily the most handsome man in any room and he will be reigning for a long time in this regard. He wore his thick, blond hair short now, which only emphasized his defined, sculpted features. Right now his eyes were a hot, molten green, darkening with lust for her as he loomed over her. She caressed his firm cheek with her knuckles, pressed shy, light kisses along the narrow, elegant bridge of his nose before rubbing against his firm, lips, grazing her teeth across them. As Jaime lowered his head and kissed her hard, she pressed her palms on the broad width of his shoulders, fingers curling on the bulge of muscles there before drifting down his rippled chest. He gasped against her mouth as she flicked at his nipples, tensed as her hands drifted to his narrow waist. Since Jaime held himself over her, his cock was only brushing against the seam where her thigh and cunt met. 

She spread her legs but he shook his head. 

“Uh, Jaime?” She asked, suddenly unsure.

“Fast,” he reminded her gently. He kissed her and flipped her on her stomach. Brienne understood and she blushed as she pushed herself up on her hands and knees. Behind her, Jaime fought the urge to whistle at the sight of her long, rippled back and the freckles splashed around it, the smooth, modest curve of her bottom, the bunched muscles at the back of her thighs. There was a bite mark on her shoulder from when he’d marked her earlier, and little bruises were scattered around her back, her bottom, from their fucking against the door. He kissed every one, both in apology and gratitude for her letting him take her as he had. Between kisses on her delectable flesh, he whispered about taking her _here_ , sliding a tongue between her buttocks so she would know what he meant. She hissed in agreement and thrust against his him She missed him _there_.He spread her cheeks open and thrust his tongue in shallow rapid strokes in her pink hole. 

Brienne, thinking he was torturing her most delightfully, growled, “Fast.”

He laughed and trailed kisses up her spine. “As my lady wife wishes.” 

Jaime bent over her, licking her nape before giving her hair a brief tug so their lips could meet in a hungry, tasting kiss. Then he knelt behind her. Both knew this was her favorite position to fuck. 

Still gripping her hair, Jaime began to ease his way inside. Brienne gasped—he felt monstrous in this angle and she loved it, loved how he stretched her to the point of ripping her. But she was wet, she was dripping down to her thighs and the sheets was moist with her own juice, so it didn’t hurt. He held on to her hip, his hand still on her hair and started fucking her.

Brienne would press her face into the pillow to muffle her cries but Jaime was holding her and he felt so unbelievably good there was no other way to respond or show how she loved it. Her tits shook with every thrust, the sound of their slapping skins almost rivalled her grunts and gasps. _“Jaime Jaime Jaime,”_ she chanted, unintentionally spurring him to fuck her harder. He gasped when his cock popped through the last stronghold of her tight cunt and she cried out as he steadily started bumping against her cervix. This time, she managed to shake off his grip from her hair to continue her cries into the pillow.

“No,” Jaime’s voice was dark as he grabbed her by the hair again. “No, wife. Let me hear you. Tell your husband how much you like having his cock in you.”

“Jaime,” she protested, weakly, imprisoned by the pleasure he was giving her thrust by thrust. “Oh oh oh—gods—“

“Jaime,” he corrected and she could hear him grinning.

“Asshole,” she wheezed out, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt herself on the brink.

He slapped her bottom and she cried out. “Later.” Then his fingers found her, massaging her clit in rough, circular strokes that caused tremors to break out in her body. “Are you close?”

He was winding her up tighter. “J-Jaime—“

Realizing what he was doing, he released her clit and her hair. He seized her by the hips and started fucking her with a vigour that knocked the breath out of her. Brienne found herself gripping the headboard, squeezing her eyes shut. As his thrusts got more deliciously savage, cries started emitting from her throat. She held on, feeling it, the wonderful promise of—

_“Jaime!”_

Six seconds later, a roar so powerful resonated through the walls of their bedroom, a roar so mighty and powerful it probably shook the door as it ripped through it, telling anyone who overheard that indeed, a lion was in Casterly Rock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I ripped off the title from the upcoming GoT episode.


	6. The Stars My Destination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sparring" J/B style.

Tywin did not scold them when they made it to dinner a good deal later than instructed. He did notice, however, that Brienne was blushing more than usual and had a dazed, bright-eyed look while Jaime looked more smug and very sure of himself. Jaime pulled out a chair for his wife, grinning, but it dropped when he was instructed by his father to take the opposite chair. The old man was truly tempted to roll his eyes, then; it was good of his son to be so in love with his wife but it wouldn’t kill him to be away from her for one dinner. Especially since the boy had just shown how much he liked being with his wife during breakfast earlier. Brienne looked a little disappointed but she was better-mannered, understanding and respecting the rules and her elders. 

Brienne had to put all her efforts in focusing on the delicious swordfish course. She and Jaime had gotten pretty loud in their fucking and woke up their sons. Jaime, still half-erect and clearly in no condition to be on his feet yet left it all up to her to throw on her robe and put the boys back to sleep. A few soothing sounds and touches put Jason and Michael right back to sleep but Drew and Ty demanded a story. They were truly their father’s sons, she thought, summoning what little strength she had to have half a mind to read aloud from The Fire Dragon That Wouldn’t Behave—with voices, as Ty earnestly requested and she could never resist her son when he looked at her so pleadingly, a dimpled, beautiful smile on his cherubic face. To add to her distraction, when Brienne was sitting down, there was semen dripping down her thighs and wetting her robe. By the time she was finished, she was ready to deck Jaime with the hardbound storybook. But like his sons, Jaime had given her that irresistible puppy dog expression matched with a sheepish, dimpled smile and damn it, but he just looked adorable struggling to tuck his erection in his pants. Yep. _Fucking adorable._

She picked a high-necked, gray sweater that fit close to her body and ended at her midriff and a long, high-waisted black pencil skirt to go with it, which had a slit from thigh to calf. There was no time to wipe herself clean and, clearly only still having half a mind, thought it wise to skip underwear. Boy, was she wrong. 

Sitting down, with the skirt’s fabric rubbing her slit, was fucking arousing and she was blushing harder than when Jaime had been fucking her. Her asshole husband also seemed to know exactly what was going on and would give her longing but smug looks from across the table. She prayed Tywin didn’t notice her distraction—she would reply a few seconds too late to his questions and always looked surprised when prompted to comment. They have been talking about Lannisport’s holiday activities tomorrow, of which the Lannisters were the honoured guests at the parade hosted by the local chamber of commerce. 

“We would love to join you,” Brienne managed to say, sounding a little breathless as she squirmed in her seat. “It sounds lovely and fun. Do you think the children would enjoy it?”

“There’s going to be a parade, music and much dancing. Fireworks at night,” Tywin said. He nodded at Jaime. “I used to take my children to it until they started growing horns.”

Jaime sighed loudly. “Cersei doesn’t like crowds. And she was always getting into fights with people whom she thought were looking at Tyrion wrong. Tyrion also had a habit of standing too close next to ladies in short skirts.”

Brienne cocked an eyebrow at him through the rim of the goblet she was sipping from. “And of course you were the perfect angel.”  
Jaime made a harrumphing sound. “Damn right.”

“Language, Jaime.” Tywin reminded him. To Brienne, he said, “Jaime was rude and sarcastic. It got to the point that the children were banned and only I was deemed worthy of an invitation.”

Brienne smiled at him. “That doesn’t surprise me at all, Tywin.”

“We can watch the fireworks from the beach,” Tywin told them. 

The rest of the meal courses were served. Come dessert, Tywin was pleased with the revel bars they bought for him from the weekend market—they were his favorite. He requested that dessert and coffee be served at the patio as it was a clear night, not too warm not too cool. He offered Brienne his arm as they walked there, Jaime trailing behind them and thinking his wife’s ass in the skirt was a damn fine gift from the Seven.

Out in the patio were slim metal chairs with the softest cushions that just called for one to sink onto and relax. Tywin removed his suit jacket, as did Jaime. Brienne kicked off her high-heeled shoes and stretched her feet in relief. Relaxed now, she sat back and enjoyed a lively conversation with her husband and goodfather. An hour passed before Tywin announced he would be retiring for the night. 

“Brienne and I will stay, if you don’t mind, Father,” Jaime told him. “It’s a nice night and we’re so relaxed.”

“Of course. Good night, Jaime. Brienne,” Tywin kissed her on the forehead and shuffled away.

As Tywin disappeared into the house, Jaime leaned toward Brienne and asked, “You want to stretch your legs?”

“What do you have in mind?” She asked.

“Come on.” Jaime took her hand. Brienne picked up her shoes and placed her hand in his. He smiled at her. "Just a short walk."

As with everything in Casterly Rock, the patio was huge and this was where Tywin often hosted cocktails. He reserved grand celebrations for the gardens near the tennis court. From the patio, it was only a short distance to the pool. 

In the star-splashed night, the blue waters of the pool gleamed like a brilliant sapphire. Jaime continued to pull Brienne behind him until they reached one of the lounge chairs lined on one side of the pool. The lounge chairs were made of sturdy, woven material and covered in deep crimson cushions so that lying on it would be absolutely relaxing. Jaime paused before one, turned to Brienne and made a grand, sweeping gesture. She blushed and sat down.

“No. Lie back.” Jaime coaxed her. So she did.

As soon as she was lying down, he joined her. It was a tight fit but they made it work with Jaime half-lying over her, looking into her eyes. Brienne knew what was coming yet her heart still played a riotous beat when he dropped his head and kissed her.  
A deep, hungry moan rose from her throat as he gently urged her lips to part wider and allow his tongue to swoop inside. She breathed, deeply, loudly, inelegantly, as Jaime’s taste filled her mouth—wine and coffee, sugar. Soon he lorded over her thoughts and senses: she breathed with him, tasted only him, felt and thought only of him. A violent gust of breath shot out of her nostrils when his hand found her bare leg and started caressing it with light, airy touches that tingled right to the bone. She buried her fingers in his thick blond hair, hooked her leg around his lean hip. Jaime shifted so she could move her other leg to wrap around his waist.

“Again?” She whispered when he raised his head to look at her. They were both breathing as if come from a hundred-meter dash. Jaime’s hair was now mussed due to her fingers. He looked like a starving man yet there was tenderness in his eyes too, with the way he traced her cheek as if she were feminine and delicate. She blinked owlishly and he gave her a ragged smile. 

“There’s something you should know,” he told her her, whispering too. He dropped a kiss on the side of her neck, below her ear. He cupped her breasts by slipping his hand under her sweater, squeezing them. He kept his hand wrapped around a round, plump mound as he plumbed her mouth again. _"Gods, Brienne."_

“Hmm?” Her voice was dreamy as he pinched her nipple.

He licked her lips unabashedly.“I want to fuck you.”

He raised his head again to look at her. Hard evidence backed up his declaration. It was pressing right against her thigh.  
Biting her lip to stop a giggle, she said, “I know.”

He shook his head. “You misunderstand, Brienne.”

She kissed the stubble darkening the edge of his elegant, perfect jawline, following the rough trail down his throat. “Tell me, husband.”

He kissed her on the mouth again then pulled back, still leaning over her. It was then that she saw his emerald eyes taken over by dark, dilated pupils.

“Every time we fuck I want you twice as much. When you walk into a room I want to fuck you. When you sing our babies to sleep all I can think about is taking you. When you’re presenting your paper I want to tear you from the stage and fuck you in front of people so they’ll know you’re mine, as I’m yours. When you smile at me. When you call me an idiot.” Jaime gasped, as if startled by his own words and he kissed her, grinning at her shock. “When you kick my ass at bowling. When you’re sunburned, you’re sweaty. When you're pregnant. When you smell of books and ink. When you look at me with those astonishing eyes. _I want to fuck you._ Twice as much and more and more and more. I want to fuck you and live in your cunt for _days._ ” He covered her neck in kisses. She clung to him, heart hammering in her chest.

"Brienne," he begged. "Please. Let me fuck you." 

She looked in his eyes, nodding. She fisted his shirt. _"Yes."_

And with that, he launched a full-on assault, kissing her hungrily and sloppily on the mouth while his hands touched and squeezed and gripped her everywhere and anywhere. He ground his hips against her, the movement promising the dance he’d be leading later. His passion only triggered one kind of response from her: she gave it back. She gave it all back with twice the fervour, the hunger and passion. It stoked the fire blazing wild in him and he growled against her tongue, determined to match her, overwhelm her. 

It was like sparring.

Sparring, each determined to make the other yield.

Where no matter the outcome, they were both winners.

But, bragging rights.

Jaime grunted in surprise when Brienne, locking her legs around him, threw her body against him, knocking him to the side of the lounge chair and on his back. A huff bathed Brienne’s face as Jaime panted, his eyes wide and pleased at her sudden manoeuvre. His hands went for his belt and zipper, she rose to her knees to unsnap her skirt—removing it was an awkward tangle of limbs and laughter until she stood up and drew it down to her ankles. She smirked, though she was blushing the deepest shade of scarlet, when Jaime’s eyes almost popped from their sockets and his jaw fell to the floor when she revealed she was naked under her skirt. Unlike most women, she only waxed when needed and Jaime preferred a full bush. She still wore her top.

Jaime's gaze at her was so hot Brienne was certain she'd go up in flames in a bit. She stood before him, shyly, blushing profusely. His eyes tracked from her face, to her nipples pebbling against the sweater and her cunt, swollen and aching. He licked his lips as his stare moved down to her legs before resting on the juncture between her freckled, muscular thighs.

"Are you wet?" He asked her suddenly.

He didn't really expect her to answer that, did he? So she nodded, feeling her cheeks burning.

He smiled. "Show me." 

_"What?"_

He moved closer. "Go on," he told her, the smile on his face widening as she suddenly covered her cunt with her palms. "Show me how wet you are." He seemed amused with how shy she was still. 

"Why don't you see for yourself?" She demanded. The tips of her ears were the colour of sunset now. 

"I want you to show me, Brienne. Please." 

That word was criminal from his lips. Breathing harshly, loudly, Brienne brought her fingers to her cunt and nudged her lips open. Jaime groaned. She was sticky, her honey wet, glistening looms sliding from her inner lips. His smiled was shaky as he looked at her. "Where do you want me?" he asked hoarsely.

Still pressing herself open, she whispered, "Inside."

"Show me, wife. Show me where you want me." His voice dropped lower. "Touch yourself." 

When Jaime adopted that silky, dark tone, Brienne felt herself wired to obey. She had never touched herself until meeting her husband, who had eagerly taught her the many ways to find pleasure with herself. It still embarrassed her, partly because she was letting Jaime in on something so private, and a huge part because she was willingly relinquishing control. But Jaime's response was always worth it. As she rotated her middle finger around her clit, he bit his lip, a look of pained envy on his face. It was enough to encourage her to begin fucking herself.

She was wet. Only with Jaime did her body respond like this, in a head-spinning, overwhelming way that was both terrifying and exhilarating. As Brienne stared at Jaime while touching herself, her eyes became heavy with the lust she herself was weaving.

"Always so wet for me," Jaime whispered. "Come here."

Again, she obeyed him without another word. Jaime one leg to rest on his knee, told her to continue touching herself. A few strokes around her clit and he brought his hand hand to her, his fingers pumping her cunt. It was too much."Oh gods," she groaned. Then he beckoned her to come forward. As soon as she was close enough, he seized her by her ass and planted his mouth right in her folds.

She clung. _"Jaime."_

He growled, pulling her closer until she could grip the top edges of the lounge chair as he lapped at her cunt like a bear let loose on the honeypot, or a lion devouring the sweetness of his prey. His tongue barrelled through her folds before ramming inside in rhythmic, wet thrusts deep and deeper inside. “Jaime,” she whispered, her body lost to sensations and moving against her own volition when he sucked on her clit and his fingers slid in and out through the sticky honey streaming down her thighs. Then she stiffened, letting out a cry that was half in protest and surprise when he surprised her with his fingers fucking both her cunt and in between her buttocks. As her body snapped from the rising tension, Jaime, unbelievably, _cruelly,_ suddenly set her away from him.

 _“Jaime!”_ She protested.

He grinned at her tightly. “Wait and see.”

Brienne wanted to punch him because he was goddamned cruel but all thoughts of revenge fled when she realized that his pushing her away was so that she could sit take his cock inside. Very well—

Despite being juicily wet, she and Jaime had to work with gritted teeth to get her to sink lower and lower down his member until it was fully inside. Brienne felt full and stuffed to the core. He felt good, so good, but she knew that the moment she moved, he was going to feel infinitely better.

_Oh gods, he did._

Jaime gripped her hard on the waist, keeping her still as he thrust upwards. She was moaning incoherent words, begging him to take her as he shoved her sweater to her neck and sucked hard on her nipples to the point of pain. The greedy pulls of his mouth and his cock ramming into her with one heavenly thrust after the next was unlike anything she knew. She didn’t know how long she let him take charge but she remembered _she_ was on top and should be calling the shots. 

Brienne fought back, shoving Jaime hard down the lounge chair and pinning his wrists with her hands. He smirked at her, surprised but looking way too pleased. Her eyes flashed, the brightest, most vivid of sapphires as she moved at a pace so frantic soon she was panting—they both were. It was like riding a stallion like a bat out of hell and also sailing on the calmest sea. It was desperation and prolonged longing. 

“Fuck,” Jaime gasped, eyes squeezed shut. His forehead gleamed with sweat and slid down the sides of his face. “Gods, _Brienne_ —wife—fuck—“ He struggled against her grip but she was bigger. Stronger. She pumped her hips harder.

“Not yet,” she grunted, shoving against him as if to render him into powder. 

She shrieked when Jaime raised his head enough to drag her nipple between his teeth and suck. She tried shaking him off but did she really want to stop him? Dear gods, no. No. Never, never, never. And his lips tightened around her nipple before his mouth opened as if to take the entire small mound of her breast in. His teeth scraped the sensitive skin. A cry was ripped from her and she started thrusting harder against him, pummeling him with her body. Then he released her breast and looked at her, desperate and panting.

“Finish it,” Jaime commanded, his voice guttural. _“Finish us off.”_

He wrenched one of his arms free from her hold and sought her clit. Brienne let out a strangled sob—she was so full—of Jaime’s cock, _of Jaime,_ of a tornado of emotions, of everything. He showed her no mercy, thrusting violently up against her, nearly toppling her off if not for the determined grip of her hands on the chair and on his wrist. His fingers stroked her clit hard. Her pace increased, drawing sharp cries from both of them.

“Jaime,” she wept, overwhelmed. “Jaime—“

He snarled. _“Now.”_

Brienne screamed and detonated into a thousand pieces toward the night sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from the sci-fi novel The Stars My Destination by Alfred Bester.


	7. "The Talk"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne the morning after.

Jaime was having a dream so hot he could hear himself sweating. His wife was dressed in a knight’s armour, complete with chain mail, cloak, tall boots fitted around her infinite legs. Her armour was blue, darker than her beautiful eyes but emphasizing their brilliance even more. She was wielded a sword as she circled Jaime, scowling and looking mad enough to splinter him in half.  
He saw himself armoured too, in shimmering gold and a white cloak. He had his own sword poised at the warrior maiden, his blood humming with anticipation. 

But he struck first.

Brienne swung her sword, hefting it easily, gracefully. She turned, her cloak whirling behind her as she avoided a swipe from his sword sure to slice into her. Jaime advanced, his steps light, reared back when she pushed forward. It didn’t take him long to realize they were not only evenly matched but also familiar with each other’s fighting style. Jaime savoured the sight of Brienne feigning to the left, thinking to fool him, but he quickly turned and planted his booted foot right behind her legs.

He was sorry to see her stagger but she quickly recovered her balance and turned to him, her face an uglier, more _darling_ mask.

He was done.

Faster she came at him, her swings vicious yet also precise despite. Their swords scraped, clanged. At one point, she managed to cut into his arm and if not for the chain mail he’d been bleeding. Deliverance came when he cut her on her thigh. Brienne roared in pain. He put all his power in his next swing and her sword flew from her grasp. Acting quickly, he sent a hard blow to her middle and she slammed to the ground with an, "Oof!"

He fell toward her, straddling her powerful, armoured, heaving form. He smirked at her sapphire glare and pressed the tip of his sword on her throat. “Yield.”

She stared back at him wordlessly, defiantly.

He narrowed his eyes and pressed the blade further.

She grunted, frowning. “I yield.”

He smiled in relief. “At last.” 

He tossed the sword away. She grinned back, her teeth crooked, her smile still the sweetest thing. Then she yanked him toward her.

The combination of sweat and dirt from her lips was intoxicating. Their armours, heavy and hard, made any closer contact impossible, and attempts to change it painful. He grabbed one of her legs, curled it around his hip and rolled, putting her on top of him. She was heavier with armour, most likely she would crush his ribs but damn it, she felt perfect like this. He pushed his fingers through the wild tangle of her pale blond hair and sucked her full lower lip. 

“Jaime,” she whispered, her voice rough and strangled. Even in dreams it made him hard. He kissed her harder. “Jaime, get up.”  
“Of course,” he agreed but continued kissing her, wrapping a leg around her waist. His cock ached under his breeches—breeches shut with laces. The thought of Brienne with laces on her breeches too excited him. Easier to slide off, he thought, rolling again so she was under him. Her grunt warmed his tongue.

“Jaime. Um, you’re crushing me.”

Jaime opened his eyes and groaned at the sun burning right into his eyes. He was back in Casterly Rock, practically lying down on his wife, who was trying to wriggle her way out from under him. He apologized, shifting a little so he was stretched out beside her. He drew her to him, a hard arm wrapping around her back and the other sliding down to her waist. She tilted her head toward him, waiting for his kiss.

Her breath was dry and her lips cracked at the corners but he was hard with want. He smelled the sun, grass, the faint vanilla scent of Brienne, their mingled sweat and the vanishing musk of their fucking. He pulled her leg around his hip, opening her to his cock thrusting against his pants, eager to sink inside her again. He wondered how to manoeuvre them to a more comfortable position—the lounge chair was too hard this morning, the sun climbing higher meant it was getting hotter. And the sound of birds was too loud, and the swooshing sounds from the sprinklers at work and the whine of the lawn mower certainly did not contribute to the mood. But he was kissing his wife, he thought, and his mind wandered to where they could rent medieval armour, play at swordfight and have a steamy, sweaty fuck session after. He could hear Brienne moaning, "I yield," repeatedly as he fucked her. Their backyard would have to suffice as a forest--

Jaime froze at the same moment that Brienne stiffened.

He looked at her—sexily mussed, sleepy, kiss-swollen, wearing her sweater. Wearing _only_ her sweater.

As his shock at the realization that his wife was half-naked and out in Casterly Rock for all to see hit him, her eyes widened. Horror was on her face and, thinking of the only possible solution in these circumstances, threw himself on top of her.

 _“You’re naked!”_ he exclaimed at the same time she gasped, _“The children!”_

Then they stared at each other, the gravity of their situation sinking in. 

_“The children!”_ Jaime cried out as Brienne shrieked, _“I’m naked!”_

Jaime started unbuttoning his shirt. Hysterical, Brienne demanded, “What the hell are you doing!”

“Covering you, you idiot!” He snapped, practically ripping his shirt off and nearly hitting her on the face with it. As they wrestled—she trying to wrap it around her waist and him trying to spare her the indignity of walking butt-naked around manor and getting caught, somebody cleared his throat behind them.

Brienne, wild-eyed, held her breath. Jaime’s expression mirrored hers. He moved over her to cover her some more but she was taller, wider. Then he felt something move behind him and her face, having gone white and rendered without freckles, paled even more.

“I believe you misplaced this, Brienne,” Tywin Lannister said, holding the skirt over them. Jaime saw that he was looking away, facing the other side.

Mortified, Brienne could neither move nor say anything. Jaime awkwardly reached for it and muttered his thanks. He continued to hover protectively over his wife as she slid inside her skirt. She looked near tears. Jaime felt sorry for her and wanted to hug her.

“I checked on the children last night.” Tywin spoke, as if to continue a conversation they were having. His back still faced them. “They’re fine. Podrick and a housekeeper are getting them ready as we speak. Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes.”  
Then he headed for the gardens.

As Tywin disappeared behind the hedges, Jaime turned to Brienne. “Wife?” He asked, peering at her anxiously. “Honey, talk to me?”  
Brienne, looking like she'd seen a ghost, whimpered, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“No, you’re not.” Jaime sat up and pulled her to sit up with him. She was breathing fast and shallowly. “Put your head between your legs,” he told her, rubbing her back and urging her toward the position. She nodded and did as he told.

When her breathing steadied, she slowly straightened up. She was still pale but some of her ruddiness was returning. At least she didn’t look like she was going to burst into tears now though embarrassment had taken over. Jaime will take it. He put an arm around her waist, looked at her for confirmation. She nodded and together, they stood up. 

 

Breakfast was as silent as the crypt.

Tywin sipped his coffee, looking at Jaime, who was taking a very deep interest in his eggs and toast. Brienne had refused to leave the bedroom and he understood. He hadn’t wanted to leave either but as embarrassing as the situation was, he was not going to apologize for losing his head and fucking his wife to exhaustion on a lounge chair. No one would look at him weird in the old days, he thought. Married people could fuck right in the town square and no one would care. Well, maybe. But he was a happily married man, very much in love with his wife and blessed with an insatiable need to keep her full with his cock and a lucky bastard because she wanted the same thing. So passing out on a lounge chair and getting caught by your father was not anyone’s choice but Jaime Lannister did not believe in regrets.

Jaime glanced at the empty chairs beside him. The children were in the kitchen, being fed by Podrick. Which meant that Tywin was itching for a talk. About what, he didn’t know. Well, he had an inkling but if the gods were merciful, he hoped Tywin would just ignore what happened and let it slide. It was a big deal but not that big of a deal, wasn’t it? Getting caught fucking your wife was a helluva lot better than getting caught fucking someone who wasn’t your wife. Jaime shuddered at the idea. He’d be the biggest idiot this side of Westeros if he even thought of cheating on Brienne. Super-intelligent, funny, sapphire-eyed, sexy, blushing Brienne for some bland bimbo? Brienne who always thought of him as the best man there is? No way. 

“Is Brienne not joining us?” Tywin asked, setting his coffee cup down.

“A headache. She thought it better to rest this morning so she’ll be ready for the festivities in the afternoon.” Jaime told him. Also because my wife hates having me around when she wants to wallow. Jaime could respect that though it killed him to be not there for her. 

“Good.” Tywin looked at him. “That gives us a chance to talk.”

Jaime met his stare. “I am not sorry for what happened.”

“Oh?”

“Okay. I’m sorry for what you saw but not for, uh, _demonstrating_ how I feel about my wife.” Jaime swallowed, patted his lips dry with a cloth napkin and put it beside his plate. He dared with one look for Tywin to challenge him. Inwardly, he was shaking. It was plain luck this morning he didn’t have his hands under her shirt or his fingers in her cunt, as they often were when waking up. Sometimes, he woke her up with playful nips at her throat or the barest laps of his tongue on her clit. She would gasp, startled, then beg for him to take her soon after. Fucking a half-dreaming Brienne was sweet. She was a lot more responsive and filled his ears with breathy, hot suggestions of what he could do to her. Like when she begged him to fuck her in the--

“I’m not questioning your, ah, said demonstration.” Tywin declared, snapping Jaime out his reverie. “Perhaps we best continue this in my study.”

His study with the hallway flanked by empty armors and weapons that brought a creepy vibe. Only Tyrion liked it. 

“It’s a good day. The sun is out. Why can’t we stay here?” Jaime pointed out.

“What I have to say is for your ears only.”

 _The Seven fuck me hard,_ Jaime thought as Tywin stood up. He had no choice but to follow. Tywin would ban them from Casterly Rock for a while, which wasn't that bad but would humiliate Brienne. Or he would admonish Jaime about having to keep it in his pants.

When they were children, the only time they were in Tywin’s study was when they got in trouble. That happened a lot. If it wasn’t Tyrion being picked on or Cersei breaking some moron’s heart, it was Jaime and his low grades. Tywin had been resistant to Jaime’s dyslexia and thought it was laziness at the core of his loathing for reading. He spent hours teaching and berating his son to read correctly and Jaime still remembered every session. He had just turned forty-six, owned a successful company, married with four lively children. Yet every time he entered Tywin’s study, Jaime felt like a kid terrified of his father’s disappointment. This was what Tywin would serving him, of that he was sure.

So Jaime resigned himself to his fate and sat down. Tywin sat himself behind his desk. It was the ugliest desk Jaime had ever seen. Reddish brown, good wood quality but carved with lions on the side and the legs were in the shape of paws, complete with claws.  
If Brienne were here, her presence would be a comfort. Or she’d protect me from my own father. The last thought put a small smile on his face. Jaime didn’t need any protecting but he knew this was exactly what his wife would do. 

“I was young once, you know,”Tywin said in a way as if issuing a command.

“I’m sorry?”

“Like you.” He inclined his head at Jaime, along with a quick, hand gesture. “Young. And in love.”

 _Oh. He’s going to talk about Mother. Right. I can do this._ A weird start. Still. 

“Your mother was a passionate woman. As passionate as your Brienne,” Tywin continued. “I couldn’t get enough of her.”

Jaime, squirming in his seat, asked, “Uh, Father? Why are you telling me this?”

But Tywin was on the nostalgia lane. “Joanna was a strong, adventurous, daring spirit. We argued a lot about it. She was convinced it happened at the old stables.” He chuckled. “I told her it was in the library, I was sure of it. I still am. Of course, she’s no longer around to rebut me.”

“What in Seven Hells are you talking about, Father?" Jaime demanded, confused.

“Why, where your mother and I conceived you and your sister.”

“Dear gods,” Jaime gasped. “Are you going to discuss with _me_ about having sex with _my mother?_ ”

Tywin gave him a warning look. “She was my wife.”

Jaime started to stand up but Tywin glared at him. “Sit. Stay. And listen. I have no doubt you know what to do with your wife, Jaime, but I expected you to be. . .well, to at least have some finesse about it. And manners, young man. You are going to sit here and learn that the way to a woman’s heart is not always by mauling her to the ground.”

 _The Stranger take me now, holy fuck._ Still, he made another try for it.

"Are we going to have "the talk," is that it?" He shot back drily. He pretended to pout. "I'm afraid you're at least three decades late, Father."

The frosty look Tywin gave him said that if he didn't shut up, Jaime wasn't going to have another three decades of anything. Flushing, clearing his throat, he tried to make himself comfortable although a bench with knives would suit him better. The things I do for love, he thought as Tywin launched in a description of women's bodies. 

And because the gods were cruel, Tywin whipped out his tablet and showed colorful illustrations and charts for the longest, most embarrassing lecture of Jaime's life.


	8. Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Jaime and Brienne get flufflier than whipped cream.

Work was the antidote to a lot of things, Brienne had discovered when she was in college. After that awful break-up with Hyle, she drowned herself in research papers and books. It was also effective in helping her forget that night with Gendry Waters. When she injured her knee and kissed her collegiate athletic career goodbye, she threw herself into rehab and academics. 

Work always set things right and she dived into the pile of student papers slowly gone stiff and dented in her briefcase under the bed. Focusing on the students’ words and their ankle-deep thoughts distracted her from the mortification of getting caught with her ass hanging out by Tywin Lannister, of all people. When she and Jaime embarked on this ridiculous “conquest” of Casterly Rock, they had anticipated getting caught but not by Tywin. They only joked about it—who knew it would come true? She wondered if she could fake sick in order to skip Friday night dinner next week, and possibly arrange to get into an accident the following Friday. Brienne despised pity but it might make Tywin forget what a slut his gooddaughter was.

Slut. That word shouldn’t make her feel. . .well, she was quite proud. Brienne Lannister, Jaime’s slut. Offensive on so many levels. Women’s groups would chase her with torches made out of bras but she was slightly giddy at the idea of being that. Jaime’s Slut. _Brienne the Slut of Tarth._

Dear gods, she was a mother now. She shouldn’t be acting like this! Or feeling like this!

Frowning, she gripped her pen and bore hard on the student paper to write a C.

She read a few more papers after that, feeling more calm and settled. She was almost through with the pile when Jaime entered the room. He looked a little queasy and green. Fearing the worst, she sat up and said, “Tywin wants us to leave.”

“Believe you me, that’s a lot better than what he did to me.” Jaime told her, sitting heavily on the foot of the bed. He buried his face in his palms. “Seven Hells.”

Brienne set the papers aside and went to him. “Tell me what happened.”

“Fuck, don’t make me, please. But it’s worse that we thought.” He said, glancing at her. Seeing her worry deepen, he put an arm around her shoulders pulled her close. He kissed her on the lips as if to draw strength from it. “Don’t worry. It’s okay. Everything is alright, I promise.”

“We should at least reimburse Tywin for getting that lounge chair replaced—“

“No.” Jaime shook his head firmly. “Trust me. Better if we don’t. Or he might do to you what he did to me.”

Confused, she demanded, “What happened?”

“Brienne, please don’t make me.” Jaime whined. She put her arms around him and drew his head to her chest. Gently, she rocked him in her arms. For the nth time, he was thankful of her strength. He leaned heavily against her, willing to let her be the resolute one between them for now. 

“I’m sorry I was so craven you faced him alone. I should have been there. I’m responsible too—“

Jaime shook his head and looked up at her. “Hush. Stop that ridiculousness. To tell you the truth, he wasn’t angry. At least, I don’t think he was.” Since she was still looking at him doubtfully, he kissed her on the lips. “However, it would be prudent that we remain on our best behavior until we leave.”

She nodded. “Done. No problem.”

“We don’t fuck outside that door, wife.” He was firm but sounded disappointed. So she kissed him.

“Yes. We don’t. Why did we want to leave our mark all over Casterly Rock again?” Brienne tried to ransack her brain but came up with nothing.

Jaime smiled and played with a limp strand of her hair. “Beats me. But any opportunity to fuck you I’ll never say no to. And you do scream louder when we fuck in public.” She punched him in the arm and he chuckled, pressing her against him. For a few moments, they just held each other. 

Her cheek resting on his shoulder, she discovered his shirt was damp. She sniffed him and he leaned away a bit, his stare puzzled. Flushing, she mumbled, “You were sweating earlier, weren’t you?”

He groaned. “Don’t ask anymore, please?”

“You can’t ask me to drop it when clearly Tywin did something, I don’t know, abhorrent, maybe, from the way you’ve been acting.”

A heavy sigh escaped him. “Nothing abhorrent. More like awkward and highly improper. But I’ll live.” He pressed his palm to her cheek, looking at her. “Alright, Brienne? You won’t ask me about it anymore?”

This time she was the one to drag a long sigh from her chest. “Fine. I swear not to ask again.” 

“Let’s lie down for a bit. I didn’t realize how tensed I’ve been until I sat down. No, wife, not so far away. I want to hold you.” Jaime was impatient. Brienne shot him an exasperated look and made herself comfortable in the circle of his arms.

She lay with her head on his shoulder, his arms loose around her hip and waist. She couldn’t see Jaime counting the freckles on her left temple with his eyes, content and relaxed to be held by him. 

“Are you sorry?” He asked her after a while. “About last night?”

She thought about it and all the other times they were nearly caught. Crimson spots crept up her cheeks as she shook her head. How could she? Jaime made her feel so good and it was fun. His overwhelming want for her was too much too often but that was the Jaime Lannister style. He didn’t do anything halfway or in-between. It was always one hundred twenty   
percent. Until her husband, the only one hundred twenty percent of things she knew mainly consisted of hate and disgust. 

“No.” She shook her head and looked up at him. “You?”

“Only the part with my father. But last night,” he smiled at her, his emerald eyes twinkling. “Last night we were _scorching._ It knocked off the first time we fucked from the number one spot.”

Her face reddened, remembering. They had fucked against the kitchen counter in his old apartment. “I can’t believe you have a list.” She told him, burying her heated face in his neck. “And the first time was so awkward, Jaime.” 

“You were amazing,” he told her. Eyes twinkling, he added, “And you bet I do. I have a fucking long list of white-hot sex with you as well as a compilation of your body’s erogenous zones.”

She shook her head. “No, you don’t.”

He kissed her on the cheek, licking lightly.“Yes. I do.” 

“Fine! I believe you.”

Jaime ran his fingers through her hair before giving it a gentle tug so she will look up at him. 

“You haven’t cut your hair in a while,” he told her.

“I’m thinking of growing it out. The last time I had long hair was in college. Um, is it okay?” She asked, suddenly unsure.   
He frowned. “Are you asking for my permission?”

“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want.”

“My love, if you’re the sort to want my approval and permission, I don’t think I’m the husband for you.” Jaime told her, playing with her hair. “I wouldn’t dream of stopping you from anything, unless there’s a risk of hurting yourself.”

“I was worried you wouldn’t like me with long hair,” she explained.

“I will love you even if you shave it off, Brienne.” He told her. “You can dye your hair pink though it’s not your colour but you’ll still be the woman I love. I would think it’s an abomination to my eyesight but alas,” he said, sighing dramatically, “you don’t get to choose who you love.”

Her smile split across her face. “That is so sweet, husband. Why, I was thinking of dyeing my hair blue, actually.”

He grinned back. Teasing her, he said, “Blue is a good colour on you, my lady.”

“I’m no lady.”

“Planning on getting a tattoo?” He continued teasing her, raising the hem of her shirt just enough to expose the slight dip of her waist. “I suggest `Property of Jaime Lannister’ or `If found, return immediately to Jaime Lannister’ or `Mrs. Lannister.’” As she rolled her eyes, he added, “Jaime would do.”

Or Jaime's Slut. Dear gods, that thought wasn't going away anytime soon, was it?

“I was thinking of getting a piercing,” she rejoined. 

“Where? Belly button? Nipple? Clit?”

Horrified, Brienne gasped, “A clit ring?”

“How is it that you know about clit rings but not anal beads?”

“Knowledge I wish I could do without.”

Brienne propped herself up on her elbows and kissed him on the lips. Jaime responded by kissing her back and wrapping a hand around her nape. Then she was straightening up. He looked disappointed. “I have papers to check, husband.” She explained.”We’re going home tomorrow and I wouldn’t have done anything.”

“Do it in bed, not over there.” Jaime sounded cross as she took the papers and went to the desk by the window. 

Blushing, she said over her shoulder, “You’ll distract me and we’ll end up. . .”

“What?” He lay on his side, chin propped up by his fist. No flesh-and-blood human should look that good, Brienne thought as she put the papers on the desk and faced him, arms crossed.

“I know you. You’re going to distract me and we’ll end up fucking on the papers. Not happening, husband.” She shot him a stern look and pulled out a chair to sit down.

“Fucking is the last thing on my mind.” Jaime said, still on his side and looking at her. “I don’t know if you remember, wife, but while last night’s fucking was out of this world, I’m quite sore all over. You too, I’m sure. I was treating you as a bed and a pillow when I woke up. Unless you’re one hell of a superwoman and aren’t tired at all?” 

She was tired. And sore. And stiff. She had wanted to sleep but was too tensed about Tywin and Jaime. It was a long time before sense returned to tell her that Tywin wouldn’t hurt his son just because he was fucking his wife on a lounge chair. Still, it wasn’t enough. And with her little boys gone off to have fun, there was little else to distract her but student papers. 

She turned to Jaime. “We’re just going to sleep?”

“It is if you can keep your hands to yourself.”

She opened her mouth to protest but he laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “I’ll behave. Come on, Brienne. Beside me. I only sleep well with you.” Then he patted the space next to him.

Well, now that he put it that way, she wasn’t going to refuse. Brienne dropped beside him and lay down on her stomach, facing him. Jaime was still curled on his side. 

“Just to sleep,” she told him, closing her eyes.

“Just to sleep,” he echoed, lying down. His warm breath feathered her face.

She flung an arm around his stomach, moving closer. His lips brushed her forehead.

“I love you, Jaime.”

“Don’t stop.”

She nudged his knee with her own. “You’re a fucker, you know that?”

He chuckled and pulled her until she was lying half on top of him. 

“Your eyes are really beautiful, my Raspberry Bree.”

“Shut up.”

“I love you.”

“Hmm. That’ll do, husband. That will do.”


	9. Closet

Once again, Tywin Lannister kidnapped his grandchildren, taking them with him to go golfing followed by a pizza lunch. They went home soon after because the parade would be in a few hours and the kids had to be well-rested. It was Brienne who met him at the door of their suite this time because Jaime was in the shower.

She was rested herself, her mind clearer and she wasn’t as all out of sorts as she was earlier in the day. There was no stopping the blush in her cheeks when she faced her goodfather. To his credit, Tywin treated her as if nothing happened. Brienne was putting the children down for a nap when Jaime emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped low around his waist, magnificent with his hair damp and rendered dark gold and droplets still clinging to his golden skin. He grinned at the children as he helped them to bed.

Ty rubbed his nose against his skin. “You smell nice, Daddy.”

“Thank you.” Jaime nuzzled his nose in his hair as he put him on the bed. 

“But mommy smells nicer.”

As Brienne hid a laugh by kissing Michael all over, Jaime snorted, “Yeah? What does she smell like?”

“Like candy!” Drew suddenly piped up from his bed. His grin was magical. 

“Yeah!” Ty agreed.

“So what do I smell like? A bear?” Jaime frowned exaggeratedly at his sons.

“Roar!” Jason shouted. Michael nodded and also said, “Roar!”

“Like a lion?” Jaime asked, sniffing his under arm. This time, Brienne couldn’t stop her laugh. He sauntered over her. “Do I smell like a lion, Mommy?”

He wrapped his arms around her as he spoke. Brienne, scarlet, sputtered, “S-Sometimes.”

“See!” Drew said.

“Does that mean I stink?” Jaime asked, pretending to be horrified.

“No, Daddy,” Ty said.

“Mommy just smells nicer,” Drew thought to clarify.

“That she does,” Jaime agreed. “Although I am concerned about my children likening my scent to an animal. I mean, cologne isn’t exactly cheap. I might have to switch brands.”

“You don’t use cheap cologne, you mean,” Briene told him, brushing her lips against his before patting his hands to remove them from her waist. “Get dressed, husband. I’ll finish here.”

Jaime grinned, kissed her back and went to their room. Brienne drew the blankets to her children’s chins. Ty demanded a story but she told him that since they would only be taking a little nap, a story would take too long. She promised to read them two stories before bedtime tonight. Mollified, the Lannister twins fell asleep.

In their bedroom, she joined Jaime in the closet. She was dressed in a ratty t-shirt and jogging pants with a hole on one knee—fine enough back home but certainly not proper for Casterly Rock. She turned around, taking off her top as she did.  
Jaime tugged down a sweater and turned just in time to see his wife removing her top. Her back was broad and defined with muscle—it would be the envy of every man, actually. She pulled down her pants next and he was glad to see that, as she’d been doing the last couple of days, skipped underwear again. He went to her and palmed the high cheek of her heavily-freckled ass, causing her to freeze in the act of putting on a tank top.

“Just admiring,” he told her, his touch reverent and gentle on the smooth, soft skin. “Seven Hells, wife, that is a succulent peach.”

She laughed and finished dragging the tank down. She faced him then, smirking and blushing heavily. Combined with the sparkle in her eyes, the deepening pink in her cheeks, her nipples straining against the cotton and her cunt with its springy, dirty-blond curls warm and bare to the touch, she made a very provocative picture. He was hard; his cock was beginning rise and push against his pants but for now, looking at his wife was more than enough. Only for a short while. A very short while. 

“You have a fruit obsession,” she remarked. “My freckles are raspberries, and I believe one time you likened my tits to apples. Now my ass is a peach.” He grinned as she put her arms around him. “Husband, I sometimes think that you see me as a fruit basket.”

“More like a fruit buffet,” he said, burying his nose behind her ear. Inhaling deeply, he whispered, “But Drew’s right. You do smell like candy.”

“I’m a fruit buffet?” Brienne couldn’t hide the laughter from her voice.

“Uh-huh. See your mouth? Plump like a really juicy strawberry.” He pulled her lower lip between his teeth, sucking. She trembled, her hands gripping him on his shoulders. As the kiss deepened, his hands climbed to her breasts. “Your tits are the size of apples but soft, of course. Nipples, when they’re tight, they look like raspberries.” They continued kissing, their breathing growing swift. He continued with is caresses. “Your butt is a peach and your cunt, ah. . .”

He gripped her by the nape, holding her steady against his kiss as he palmed the heat between her legs. Her eyes closed as he easily found her clit and started touching it firmly, lazily before sliding a finger inside. He fucked her with it gently, smiling softly as her breath quickened. He whispered for her to open her eyes and the spell his finger brought her to came to a sudden end as he pulled out. Her entire body was aflame as he showed her the shining digit before wrapping his lips around it. 

“Your cunt isn’t like any other. It’s pink and tight and you do taste and smell the sweetest here. I’d say it’s a candy shop.”

“A candy shop,” Brienne echoed weakly, shaking her head. 

“Yeah. Sweet and rich. Really sinful. I’ll get diabetes from having too much dessert.” His finger slid back inside. “Fuck, I love your free samples.”

She was that sexy tomato red again, his favorite shade. “You’re ridiculous. And corny. I can’t believe you won that advertising award.”

“Sometimes advertisements lie. I don’t. Here,” and he swirled his finger in her cunt, gathering her moisture before pulling out. A clear bead crowned his middle finger. “Taste yourself.”

She shook her head, reddening even more at how outrageous he was. He sighed and sucked on his finger. He was licking it obscenely, delighting in how much she got more impossibly red when she reached for the zipper of his pants.

“Is that how it is?” His voice sounded a little strangled.

“Um, I like free samples too.” She said, looking up at him before concentrating on undoing the zip and pulling his pants down.

She held him in the palm of her hand as she kissed up and down and around his throat while he circled her ear with his tongue and lovingly caressed the span of her back, her waist. They touched and grappled, both of them looking in each other’s eyes before they slid to the floor. Together, they freed themselves from their clothes.

She leaned over him, breathtaking in that hard, harsh way he loved. The only soft thing about Brienne was her eyes, he thought, raking his hot gaze over her, and in the expected parts, of course. But the rest was unyielding. He snuck his arms under her armpits and pulled her down to him. 

He bit at the bulge of muscles on her shoulder, kissed around the shy fullness of her high breasts. In her position, her breasts hung like small fruits, just waiting and his mouth took them, kissing and sucking until her nipples were turgid berries. She gasped, hissing they were still tender so he gentled his kissing, giving her easy, languid licks that for her felt like fiery lashes.He whined in protest when she suddenly shifted away but it died when she took his hands and kisses his knuckles, his palms. He caught the flash of uncertainty in her eyes, she would always have it, and he loved her all the more, his strapping, huge, shy wife, bold only in the classroom and had to be stroked to a slow, enduring burn in his arms. 

_“Brienne,”_ Jaime moaned, threading his fingers through her hair as she nipped at his breast, the bulge of muscles that defined his abdomen. Her husband was hard and soft under her mouth and hands, a combination that made her catch her breath. She licked the hard jut of his hip bones, kissed the firm inside of his right thigh, lifted his left knee to kiss the back of it. As she slowly approached his cock, he suddenly grabbed her and pressed her to the floor. 

She blinked at him, puzzled. “But I was—“

He shook his head. “My turn,” he growled.

His mouth crashed to hers, his hands squeezed her breasts eagerly, cupped her bottom, drew her leg around his waist. She panted against his mouth and he asked if she would like him to go slow. The question made her pause and she put a hand on his shoulder to still him, confused. 

“S-Slow, Jaime?” 

He looked as if he was at war with himself. “I can go slow. And gentle. Just tell me.”

But it had never been slow and gentle them. Brienne didn’t doubt that the payoff would be amazing but she didn’t see the point of changing things a bit. It was always urgent and desperate with them, and always wonderful in ways no words could describe enough. 

She shook her head. “I want you to take me.”

His kiss on her mouth was rough and bruising. She kissed him back just as hard. 

“Yes.”

“Brienne, are you sure?”

She nodded.

He breathed hard. “Tell me.”

She bit her lip, cursing the blush rising in her cheeks. “I want you to fuck me.”

He grinned. It was a feral, hungry smile. “How. Tell me how, wife.”

“Hard.” She gasped, shocked with how much she needed him. “Fuck me hard.”

“I knew it,” he said triumphantly, as if she’d just confirmed something.

Then he unleashed a storm of kisses on her.

They fucked quietly yet no less urgently on the floor, his hands clasped around her face, her legs tight around his waist. One adoring kiss after another was pressed on her face and she clung to him, wanting and needing him more by the second. He suckled her breasts, pinched her nipples, brought her to the brink before retreating several, maddening times. Yet she couldn’t be annoyed. She felt beautiful and cherished with every brush of his lips on her skin, and he reminded her of just how much he always desired her with every stroke of his cock, for every darkening shade his emerald eyes leaped to as the seconds passed. 

She came with a groan, loud but not as loud as usual. He followed soon after, his release dragged from the deepest pits of his soul. On and on he pumped inside her, no longer kissing her but panting against her cheek, her mouth, her ear, before his body snapped and he fell on her heavily. _“Brienne, my Brienne,”_ he chanted as she cupped his face and kissed him. He rolled off her, both of them gasping as he was suddenly out of her but he embraced her. They lay on their sides, facing each other, kissing tiredly yet their want of each other unwavering.

They hardly felt the abrasion of the carpet under their sweat-slicked bodies as sapphire and emerald gazed into each other. Then he pulled her so she may rest her head on his chest, right on where his heart beat. It was the most reassuring sound in the world, so firm and vital. Her name flitted from his lips as she kissed his breast. The tenderness of her kiss wasn’t lost on him. He tugged gently at her hair so she will look at him when he said the words.

“I love you.”

She took the hand holding her hair and kissed the palm, the wrist with a devotion that plucked something deep inside him. “Don’t stop,” she whispered. She pressed his palm to her cheek. “Don’t stop, Jaime.”

“Never.”

She settled back in his arms. He felt everything that he wanted was in this circle. 

The floor was hard, the carpet rough. But in the afterglow, in this little space, they were content. 

That is, until Brienne's stomach growled like a bear. Jaime broke into rich, unabashed laughter.


	10. An Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne meet an old friend and another Lannister.

Lannisters never did anything halfway and the celebrations for Aegon’s Conquest was further proof. The city was closed for the day-long and all-night celebration in the streets. Shops and restaurants pulled out their crimson banners with the roaring golden lion, and offered discounts and treats for the event. It was a festive, colourful holiday, and it appeared the populace had crowded the streets to take part. 

Brienne thought the city’s regard for the holiday a little unsettling, however. Aegon had deployed his and his sisters’ dragons only against House Lannister and House Tyrell, with devastating repercussions. 

Brienne thought the city’s regard for the holiday a little unsettling. Aegon had deployed his and his sisters’ dragons only against House Lannister and House Tyrell, with devastating repercussions. She shared this to Jaime as they walked through the crowds, Tywin and his sister Genna, who was also the mayor, walking ahead of them. Brienne had met her before and thought her the female version of her brother. Her hair was white and cut in a stylish crop. As it went with Lannisters, her eyes were the colour of emeralds but with a sharp, assessing stare she shared with Tywin. Brienne had met her years before, during the engagement party. The short woman had looked at her from head to toe, the expression on her face impassive, before proclaiming loudly about her lovely eyes and wide hips perfectly suited for birthing children. Brienne was never quick with words outside the classroom and had blushed heavily. Jaime, who had been on the other end of the room, practically dove through the crowd to be at her side as his aunt went on to declare that she never thought her nephew would ever choose someone as intelligent as Brienne. 

Brienne knew there was no malice on Aunt Genna but Jaime still thought to keep her contact with his blunt relative minimal. She braced herself for Genna’s reaction as her hard eyes settled on her great-nephews before looking up at Brienne and, with a rare, pleased smile, congratulated her on such beautiful boys. “Sapphire-eyed cubs, how glorious,” she said, leaning down and smiling at the boys, who all beamed at her with their dimpled smiles. 

Jaime held Drew and Ty by their hands while Brienne pushed the pram that contained Michael and Jason. Michael and Jason could walk but the crowds and their leisurely pace might tire them. As they continued through the crowd, Jaime mulled over his wife’s remark before saying that the combined forces of Lannister and Tyrell armies drove Aegon to use the dragons. “If you think about it that way, if he didn’t have the dragons he probably wouldn’t have conquered the place. Dragons sealed his victory, not military genius or his armies. Pure luck.” 

He spoke lightly, smirking at her but she saw the tension in his shoulders. It was a well-known fact that Targaryens and Lannisters got along fine in public but behind closed doors, the families still did not get along because of this. Jaime’s actions as a young advertising executive years back against Aerys added fire to the animosity. He was still sore whenever the subject of his former mentor came up, despite having proven repeatedly that he could give the man serious competition in the field. Brienne put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed and he gave her a small, gentle smile. 

They continued their way through the crowd, awed at the amazing displays and activity all around. The Lannisport Historical Society had a booth that rented costumes so people could walk around in clothes from the time of Aegon’s Conquest and also offered guided walking tours. There were several face-painting stalls that intrigued Drew and Ty, who insisted on availing of the services. Drew had his face painted like a lion and Ty a dragon. Jason stuck out his hand toward a stall selling lion and dragon plushies so Brienne got him a red dragon. Michael smiled and pointed at a blue dragon. 

Wherever they went, Genna and Tywin were greeted by name, and Jaime too. It was a glimpse into people in her life that Brienne didn’t know much about. Tywin was often stern and cold, and for a long time, dictatorial and unforgiving. This caused a rift between him and his children that had only begun to heal in recent years but Tyrion, Cersei and Jaime were still wary of dealing with him. Towards Brienne, Tywin was a little friendlier and she suspected it was because of her children. But seeing how Tywin greeted back people by name and inquired about their families and other affairs gave her insight to this man. Perhaps he was often misunderstood, and hid the fact that he had a heart under all that armour, she thought. Genna was the same with the people but Brienne figured it was part of her job and Lannisport was small—she had to know whom she was serving.

She and Jaime broke away from Tywin and Genna so their children could have some modicum of rest from the sights and sounds. They were on a picnic table, feeding their children, when a blond, rosy-cheeked woman approached them, calling for Jaime. He looked up from feeding Drew a fruit cup to grin. “Hey, Melara!”

He got up from the bench and accepted the hug she gave him. Brienne stood up, awkwardly, flushing, as her husband exchanged pleasantries with the woman. She was pretty and seemed friendly, not waiting for Jaime to introduce his wife as she went to Brienne with a hand outstretched. “Hello. You must be Jaime’s wife. I’m Melara Hetherspoon.”

“Brienne.” 

Jaime slipped an arm around Brienne’s waist. “Brienne’s a professor at King’s Landinng University-Westeros,” he said, quiet pride edging his voice. “The four terrors behind us are our sons. Ty, Drew, Michael and Jason.” 

“You have four children?” Melara exclaimed. “Gods, Geor and I have to catch up, won’t we? We only have one!” Peering at the children’s golden heads and blue eyes (clearly missing Michael’s green gaze), she gasped, “Are they twins?”

“Yes. We have two sets,” Brienne said proudly. Her cheeks pinkened even more as Jaime placed a deep kiss on the side of her neck.  
“Unbelievable,” Melara shook her head. “Like, wow.”

“Tell Brienne,” Jaime said. “She did all the hard work. I only contributed.”

As Melara hooted with laughter, Brienne rolled her eyes at Jaime. He shrugged, chuckling. Catching this, Melara groaned, “My, you still try the patience of the Seven, don’t you, Jaime Lannister? Lucky for you someone puts up with it. Willingly.”

“Not all the time,” Brienne joked.

“Hey,” Jaime protested.

“Well, I should go. I’m surprised to see you, Jaime, but really glad. You should visit more often. Brienne, it was nice meeting you. And good luck on this one.” With that, Melara waved goodbye.

“She seems nice,” Brienne told Jaime, who wrapped his other arm around her from behind. 

He dropped a kiss on her nape and behind her ear before squeezing her waist and letting go. “So you won’t be mad when I tell you we dated all throughout middle school?”

“You were dating in middle school?” Brienne exclaimed.

“What? Good looks like mine go way back,” he told her, sitting down on the bench. As Brienne muttered he was impossible, he added, “I only started dating bimbos in college, wife.”

“Jaime, maybe you should keep your voice down. We don’t want one of your ex-girlfriends overhearing and I don’t have the energy to defend your honour,” Brienne joked, her sapphire eyes twinkling. 

“Almost worth risking it,” he told her, his gaze admiring and warm. “Just to see you fighting for my honour.” 

Michael suddenly squealed and Brienne turned to him, cooing. In between, she said in a singsong voice, “I’ll need a sword. I’m guessing there are hordes angry ex-girlfriends."

“You have it.” He wiggled his eyebrows and leered at her. She rewarded him with her cheeks acquiring the colour of beets and dropping her eyes to her lap. 

“Aren’t, you, uh, you know, a little oversexed already?” She asked, her voice dropping to a whisper. She turned redder and it took all the restraint Jaime had to not grab her and kiss her senseless. “And I thought we wouldn’t be fucking outside the bedroom.”  
“Oh, believe me, not for a while. Tywin’s, uh. . .” Jaime’s voice faltered. Brienne, understanding, groaned, “Oh gods, he talked to you about what happened earlier, didn’t he?”

“It didn’t start out that way. But he thought it prudent for me to know that he’d already conquered Casterly Rock.” Brienne frowned, not getting it immediately. Jaime mentally begged her to not ask him to elaborate some more when a fiery blush exploded from her forehead down to her neck, followed by an, “Eww. Husband, he didn’t!”

“Oh, yes, he did.” Jaime scooped some food for Drew. 

She gasped, “He talked to you about having sex with your mother—“

He looked queasy. “Please, wife, don’t finish that thought.”

Her eyes huge, she covered her mouth. “Oh my gods.”

He grimaced. “I know.”

“I still can’t believe it.”

“He thought to tell me that Cersei and I were likely conceived in the library.” This time, the flush vanished from Brienne’s face. All her freckles seemed gone in an instant as her face paled. 

“Jaime, please tell me that the furniture in the library was changed at some point.”

He stared at the sky then at her before shaking his head. Again, she blurted out, “Eww, Jaime.” She looked like she was going to retch herself but she gathered herself, seeking for calm and balance. Though still pale, she murmured, “I’m so sorry I left you alone to face him.”

“He’d have found an excuse to get me alone. Don’t apologize.” He assured her.

Brienne felt sick. It was one thing to be embarrassed before Tywin Lannister. But to face him alone after getting caught literally with your pants down must have been terrifying. She looked at her husband in wonder. He didn’t want to tell me, she thought. He wanted to protect me from that.

She reached for his hand. “I guess we should take turns defending each other’s honour.”

He pushed his fingers between hers. “Yeah. It’s nice to be the one protecting you for a change.”

They exchanged a tender look before Brienne, blushing again, leaned forward and planted a kiss on his lips. He kissed her back, loving the contrast between his slender lips and her pillowy mouth. Her eyes were clear blues as she whispered, “I love you.”

He nuzzled his nose against hers. “I love you back.”

They finished feeding the children and saw more of the stalls. They ran into Tywin and Genna, who told them about an outdoor concert in an hour’s time. It was the main event, along with a series of one-act plays at the cultural center and the museum being open until midnight. There was also going to be a pyrotechnics show after the concert. Jaime’s eyes brightened at that—he loved fireworks and wanted to share the experience with his sons. The late hour was a hindrance, however. If they put the boys down for a nap now, they wouldn’t sleep the entire night and would be cranky, snarling cubs come morning—when they were driving back to King’s Landing. Screaming children during a four-hour drive was not wanted in any way.

It was over dinner at the Red Lion when Tywin proposed camping in the beach so they could watch the fireworks—it was going to come from a boat in the Sunset Sea. Brienne looked absolutely delighted with the idea but Jaime snorted, “You? Camping? On the beach?” 

“Oh, you.” Brienne scolded him. “It sounds like fun!”

Jaime crossed his arms and announced, “Tywin Lannister has never gone camping in his life.”

“I slept in a tent with my grandsons a few nights ago,” Tywin pointed out. “I survived.”

“Or you can avoid the inconvenience of getting sand everywhere by staying with me,” Genna offered. “My house has a roof deck and we can see the fireworks from there. Or we can watch right from the beach since it is right behind my house,” she added, smiling at Jason as he held out his hand to touch her cheek. 

“That sounds even better,” Jaime declared. “Thanks, Aunt Genna.”

“Oh, pah. Everyone in this table knows both you and Tywin won’t survive the night without your creature comforts. Lannister men,” Genna huffed, winking at Brienne. “Pampered asses, that’s what they are.”

As Brienne bit back her laugh, Jaime said defensively, “I have gone camping. With my wife. We went to the Riverlands a year ago.”  
“Husband, I practically had to beg you to learn how to fish,” Brienne reminded him with a smirk. Jaime chuckled and, squeezing her knee under the table, whispered something in her ear that sent a hot flush flaring from her cheeks. She elbowed him lightly.

“The children will have to share a room, I’m afraid,” Genna told Brienne apologetically. “My house is sizeable enough I only have three rooms and a very comfortable sofa that pulls out into a bed.”

As Brienne shook her head to say they wouldn’t mind, Jaime put an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll take the sofa. I hope it’s not too far from the boys, though.”

“It’s really nice of you to offer, Genna,” Brienne told her.

Genna smiled at her and waved her hand. “Oh, it’s nonsense, dear. My son hardly visits and you’ll be doing me a wonderful favor keeping me company. I don’t have grandchildren yet so my brother will just have to let me poach his for the night.”

After dinner, they went back to Casterly Rock to pack. It didn’t take them long because Brienne had organized the twins’ clothes and other things before they left for the festival. Jaime loved that about her—among many things—never mind that her organization drove him up the wall plenty of times. They drove off in their SUV, which included Tywin sitting with Drew and Michael at the back. Brienne offered to switch seats with him but he refused. 

Genna welcomed them, and took Michael from Jaime’s arms before proceeding to show them around. Brienne held Jason while Jaime and Tywin had Drew and Ty.

Genna’s house was modest compared to Casterly Rock standards but it was definitely bigger than Jaime and Brienne’s house back in King’s Landing. There was one suite and two bedrooms, a huge, sprawling kitchen with state-of-the-art equipment. The den, also spacious, was surrounded by bay windows and looked out to the beach. Genna warned them to pull the shutters down at night else they’d wake up with the sun right in their eyes.

She led them out through the den, stepping on wooden floorboards as she did. Padded lounge chairs beckoned for one to lazily sprawl on it or to simply tan. Brienne caught the significant look Jaime gave the lounge chairs and she pinched him gently, shaking her head. He grinned and they followed Tywin and Genna down the beach. 

Brienne squinted, flinging a hand to her eyes while she firmed her grip on Jason. Jason imitated her and mumbled, “Sun.”

“Yes, sweetheart. Beautiful, isn’t it?” Brienne kissed him on the cheek. Jason squealed and threw his arms around her neck.

“Aunt, can we have a bonfire?” Jaime asked, letting Drew drag him to a sitting position on the sand. Drew nodded eagerly and threw his fists in the air, “Yes, Daddy! Bonfire!”

“Well, if we’re having a bonfire, we’d need marshmallows and other treats,” Tywin said nonchalantly.

“Things I never allow in the house unless there are special visitors,” Genna said to them. 

“That’s not a problem. I can go to the store and get them and other things.” Tywin told her. 

“I want to go with gram’pa!” Ty announced.

Jaime and Brienne exchanged a look. Jaime was hesitant and Brienne, sensing his unease, said to Tywin, “Ty’s a bit of a handful, Tywin. Are you sure?”

“Oh, I can handle one Lannister boy fine enough,” Tywin assured her. “Or two.”

Drew looked at Jaime with puppy dog eyes. “Daddy, can I go?”

“I can go with you,” Brienne offered. “You might need help.”

She swore that the smile Tywin gave her was a mirror of Jaime’s. “That would be wonderful, Brienne. Yes, I’d love to have your company.”


	11. Favorite Lannister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tywin and Brienne talk.

Brienne knew that she and Jaime could get. . .very affectionate in public. Sometimes Jaime crossed the line but mostly, he behaved himself, or at least, as well-behaved as he could be. He put Drew and Ty in their car seats while Tywin made himself comfortable in the passenger seat.

“Hurry back to me,” Jaime told her as she went around to get to the driver side. Then he suddenly grabbed her and planted a rough, very inappropriate kiss right on her mouth. Shocked, Brienne’s mouth remained open and he took this as an opportunity to sweep his tongue inside, which of course buckled her knees and had her leaning heavily against him. His growl fills her and knocks her back to her senses. She snatched her head back, blue eyes wide with disbelief, mouth looking like a crushed strawberry. As she scowled at him, he told her, “Now he’s gonna give you the talk too.”

“No, he isn’t,” she said, bowing her head to hide the violent blush overtaking her body from his kiss. Tywin, mercifully, was distracted by the children when she reached the door. “I can’t believe you.”

“Well, that’s so you don’t get put off if he does,” he told her, ignoring her reaction because he took her hand and pressed a kiss on her palm. He grinned innocently. “You’re so proper and obedient.”

“Obedient, what the hell—“

“Jaime, while it is understandable why you have difficulty letting your wife go, may I remind you that we’re just going to the store and she’ll be back in no time at all,” Tywin said, infuriation and impatience in his voice as he regarded their joined hands. Brienne was a vivid tomato colour as Jaime burst out laughing. 

“Make sure she comes back to me in one piece, Father.” He told Tywin, dropping her hand. Brienne shot him a murderous look and got behind the wheel. 

“Sorry about that, Tywin,” Brienne muttered as she started the car.

“Oh, please. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” He said as Jaime waved at them.

Brienne pulled them out of the driveway and was driving down the road when his meaning hit her. Unable to stop her embarrassed squawk, she demanded, “Oh my gods. You’ve seen us? You don’t just mean from this morning, do you?”

She glanced at Tywin, whose face was as impassive as ever as he nodded. He met her stare and prompted her to look back on the road. When she did, he said, “You have a very passionate relationship with my son—“

“Seven Hells—“

“—which is not something to be ashamed of at all, my dear. The gods know that from here to the very ends of the world are people who’d like to make my son eat dirt. He’s not the easiest person to get along with, I myself have to try really hard at times, but you, on the other hand, you’ve got wrapped around your finger, don’t you?” He asked, chuckling.

“W-What? I do not have your son—“

“Oh, yes you do, my dear Brienne. You’re just exactly what he needs. You won’t tolerate his shit at all whereas all his life people let him get away with things because of his name and family.”

Remembering Aerys Targaryen, she murmured, “Not always.”

“Not always,” Tywin agreed. “But many times they do.”

Well, Jaime had a tendency to throw his weight around but only because he had a thick skull. The intention behind it was often good, she thought.

“You keep him on his toes. You challenge him. No wonder he’s like that.”

“Look, Tywin, I’m so sorry for this morning—“

“No need to apologize.”

“Still, we shouldn’t have—“ Brienne pressed on but the firm shake of Tywin’s head stopped her.

“You’re my son’s happiness, Brienne. I would rather I didn’t see what I saw—but this morning isn’t the first time—but I won’t deny him his happiness. Jaime was never this happy. And he’s got this light in his eyes when you’re in the room with him.”

Ridiculous. Brienne flushed. Catching this, Tywin told her, “He really does, Brienne. You’ve not seen this?”

“Um, I’ve never. . .I’ve never been as happy until Jaime. I didn’t think I could be,” she darted a quick look at him and continued driving. “Uh, there’s a store close by, right? Do I turn left or right?”

“Further straight ahead then a quick left and another,” Tywin told her. “My son makes you happy?”

“Oh come on, Tywin, look at me.”

He shrugged. “You’re unconventional but I don’t follow.”

“Unconventional. How kind of you.”

She saw Tywin actually roll his eyes. She’d laugh if she weren’t tensed.

“Brienne, you’ve studied history. My family has cropped up in your studies, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Lannisters are a proud lot. Blood is thick among us. Family is first and always. But that was from the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. We didn’t descend from that line, but the Lannisters of Lannisport, rather. The histories of Westeros will show that it’s more preferable to come from that so-called lesser branch.”

Brienne nodded. Kings of the Rock, they were called. The powerful main branch of the family believed to have instigated the War of the Five Kings that ripped Westeros apart before Daenerys Storm-Born re-conquered it. 

“You were named after the man believed to have fathered Tyrion the Wise,” she said, referring to Daenerys Storm-Born’s Hand that eventually became King of the Seven Kingdoms upon her death later in life, but also took on her name. “He was the only one to survive from that branch and sired no heirs.”

“Daenerys wiped the name of that family from history and left only Tyrion. Their names may be gone from histories but there’s still gossip. About the cruelty of Tywin Lannister. That one of his sons was the Kingslayer. That Lannister branch was the most powerful for centuries but while the circumstances for their demise remain unclear, I’ve always suspected it had something to do with my namesake’s skewed notion of family and legacy. And that it brought great shame for Tyrion the Wise to willingly take up another name.” Yet another wedge in the strained relationship between the Targaryens and Lannisters. 

“I’ve had to catch myself whenever thinking of legacy by going back to what happened to these Lannisters. I don’t have much. We don’t know much. But from what little I know, Tywin didn’t really regard his children as children but rather as extensions of himself, borne to reflect who and what he is and has. I’ve learned the hard way that can damage everyone around. When Joanna died, the situation between me and my children worsened and I pushed them to be people they’re not supposed to be. I thought if they had all these achievements, then pain wouldn’t touch them. I was a bastard to Cersei, forcing her to get back on the horse after her injury. I drummed it in Tyrion’s head that because he was born a dwarf he was going to have to do four times better than everyone else so they’d forget. With Jaime, I had no tolerance for his dyslexia. My children weren’t happy for a very long time, largely because of me.” Tywin cleared his throat. “Make a right here and we’ll be at the store shortly.”

Brienne followed his instructions. As she did, she waited for him to talk some more. She felt that this was the first time that Tywin Lannister was unloading serious emotional baggage.

“Do you know that I once encouraged Cersei to date Aerys’ son, Rhaegar Targaryen?”

“Uh, no. I didn’t.”

“Cersei despised me for it. She was dating someone else then, a boy she claimed to love. But she did what she could. My daughter’s fight and protests a lot but in the end, she does as expected of her. Rhaegar Targaryen wouldn’t be the last relationship I would, uh, encourage her to pursue. It wouldn’t be the last thing I would lead her to. Cersei, being her mother’s daughter, grew enough backbone to go against me and do what she wanted. I didn’t approve so I cut her off. Her and her brothers.”

Brienne nodded. “Jaime told me. He and Tyrion had to pitch in to send Cersei to medical school at some point.”

“I thought that when my children defied me, it was that they were doing it for its sake. I thought they were sabotaging not only their own happiness but also the Lannister legacy. Little did I realize then that by accepting and treating them as persons with their own minds they will not only find happiness but also secure what I’ve been working for my whole life.” Tywin said, nodding ahead of them. “We’re at the store. But let’s stay for a bit, Brienne. Once the children see candy we’re going to be left hanging.”

At the mention of candy, one of the twins shouted, "Yeah!"

Brienne shot them a warning look then turned back to her goodfather.“Uh, Tywin, I don’t encourage candy after dinner.”

“Oh! Of course not. My apologies. Where was I? Yes. My point. On your being unconventional.” Tywin gave her a rare smile. “I’ve feared for a long time I would be just like my namesake. It wasn’t easy letting my children do as they wished. Little did I know that by relinquishing control, I would get what I’ve been hoping for in the end. And it’s all because of you.”

“Me?” Brienne exclaimed. “Oh, because of your grandsons?”

“More than that, dear. You have no idea how much I respect you, of how grateful I am because of you, do you?”

“Er. . .no. It didn’t cross my mind.”

“You brought my children back to me, Brienne. Oh, I know, I forced those Friday dinners on them but when Jaime brought you that first night, I knew things would be different. And he was so smitten by you—I’ve never seen him look like that. I think we all were. Tyrion couldn’t get enough of telling us—you remember, don’t you—that you’re one of the most accomplished students in the graduate program. You also brought Cersei out—you know my daughter isn’t the easiest person around. But Jaime. Above all, Jaime. He’s never brought home a girl before and you were so. . .unexpected.” Tywin marveled. “I knew if I remained the tyrant I was I would have disapproved. I’d have enoucraged, nay, pushed, Jaime to pursue someone whom I believe to be of more equal standing. But you were better. Much better. You’re an even match for him as well as a challenge. Until you, I’ve never seen Jaime put anyone's needs first."

With every word unraveling a Tywin Lannister Brienne didn’t expect, as well as revealing exactly what he thought of her, she blushed deeper and harder. Finally, she said, “Uh—uh, Tywin, I didn’t. . .that was. . .thank you. I didn’t expect. . .any of that.”

“All the more why you're a lot better than you think, Brienne. And why I don’t really mind how handsy you and Jaime could get.” Tywin winked at her as he began to unbuckle his seatbelt. “But maybe next time, be more discerning of the location, hmm?”

As Brienne tuned a rich, watermelon colour, he added, “Lucky you it was me. What if it was Tyrion?”

_Oh gods. Who knew there’d be a time when you’d actually prefer Tywin over Tyrion?_


	12. By the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, nothing stops these two.

Tywin was the ultimate Lannister. He did everything to the zenith. What Brienne thought were “a few things” they would be picking up from the store for the fireworks celebration turned out to be several bags of candies, treats and drinks. Drew and Ty, her little cub monsters, took advantage of their grandfather’s generosity by pointing at every colourful display they saw. Brienne had to lay down the law, to the disappointment of the children and her goodfather. Despite curbing things, they still left the store with three huge bags. She shuddered at the idea thought of letting the men have their way. Thanks to her intervention, they wouldn’t be eating only candy and other junk food.

The impromptu celebration turned out to be much better than they expected. The bonfire Jaime built was huge and brought needed warmth due to growing chill from the sea—it would be fall in a few weeks and the temperatures dropped lower and lower everyday. Genna made sangrias and made sure Brienne’s glass was never half-full despite the latter’s protests about having to be sober when around children. Tywin surprised them by cooking juicy chicken wings, as well as his signature spicy garlic dip—which he confessed he hadn’t made in years. The children were very happy with their candies and chocolates, despite their mother’s eagle eye making sure they didn’t have too much lest they ended up too fired up for bedtime. Tywin kept watch too, remembering too well that incident with Selwyn Tarth a year ago when Drew and Ty got sick from a chocolate dinner.

They watched fireworks light up the night sky. By then the children were yawning hugely and getting cranky but the booming sounds and the awesome display of fun shapes—one of them was a dragon!—over their heads drew them out of their souring methods. They cheered with their father, their delighted whoops and shrieks nearly drowning out the swoosh and explosions. It went on for an hour but not all children saw it through the end. Jason and Michael fell asleep in Brienne’s arms halfway through, so she had to go in the house and tuck them in. Ty, who was holding Jaime’s hand, fell asleep standing up and his father hefted him up in his arms just on time. Only Drew watched through the very end. When it did, he declared he wanted to go to bed and a story. Tywin took over the task before Jaime could point out his son would be snoring before he even began reading. He shooed Jaime out of the room and, smiling at Drew, told him the story of Lann the Clever.

A few hours after the quiet that had settled in the house, Brienne woke up thirsty. She was pressed against Jaime’s back, her leg thrown over his hips and her nose against his nape. Humming sleepily, she reluctantly rolled away, freezing when the bed squeaked when she sat up. She gingerly roe from the bed and went to the kitchen to get herself a glass of water.

When she returned to the den, Jaime was sitting up, squinting from the moonbeams that have entered through the shutters pulled halfway down. “I felt you leave,” he mumbled, voice sandy from sleep. Brienne whispered and apology as she lifted the blanket and joined him. He threw an arm around her waist and nibbled on her shoulder.

Brienne’s eyes closed, thinking she would be going to sleep now but Jaime clearly didn’t share the thought. He breathed heavily against her nape, sucked and kissed at the arc formed by her neck and shoulder. His hands roamed all over, touching her as if she were silk and delicate. Though groggy from the sleep beginning to sink in her, she let out a giggle and whispered, “Jaime?”

His fingers danced on the edge of her tank top. “I want you.”

She felt him smile as he raised her shirt and cupped her breasts. “What if somebody sees us?” She whispered, arching against him and feeling his erection pressing against her back.

“Tywin and Genna are asleep and drunk.” He bit the tip of her earlobe. “Don’t you want to?”

“You know I do.” She then turned to him, about to kiss him when the bed let out a high-pitched squeak. She froze, her eyes flying open. Jaime laughed and she quickly cupped her palm over his mouth. He kissed it.

“I don’t think we can—“

“Sure we can—“

“The bed—“

“Yes, it's loud. So?—“

"You really mean--"

“I want to fuck you. Let’s try it slow and easy—“

 _“You?”_ She removed her hand. In the dark, he could see her goggle-eyed.“Slow and easy?”

“Is that a challenge, wife?” Green eyes sparkled. 

As Jaime spoke, he shifted so he was on top of her. Brienne stiffened as another squeak resounded from under them. His chuckled warmed her throat before replacing it with little deep kisses. Despite her hesitation, her hands climbed to his broad shoulders, pulling so his mouth would be over her own and she could bury her tongue deep inside. Growls and moans came from their kiss, followed by another screech of metal straining under their weight. Jaime sensed that Brienne would be pushing him away so he kissed her harder, dragged her arms to her ears and kneed her legs apart so he could settle completely over her, leave her with nowhere else to go. They groaned together. He was heavy so warm on her firm, solid body, which called to be conquered again and again.

Of all the times she wears pants, he complained to himself as he rubbed his cock against the moistening patch on her pajamas. She was warm and had too many clothes on but gods above, he couldn’t stop kissing her long enough to get her naked. She squirmed and writhed, and he knew that though she was resistant to the idea of their fucking on such a noisy bed, he was making her feel too damn good. 

Brienne managed to break away from his kiss, panting, her blue eyes dilated with lust as she gasped, “Jaime. Jaime, please—“

He sucked on her collarbone. “Tell me.”

“I want—I want you.”

It was maddening how he still had to order her to tell him exactly what she wanted but that was part of the delight of fucking her. His Brienne. _His wife._ Always shy and blushing. He pulled at the neckline of her old tank until her little breasts were bared. Brienne cried out as he took the pink tips between his fingers and tugged. Her crotch, pressed against his cock, approached the temperature of a furnace.

“Tell me, wife.” He hissed, pinching and pulling her nipples. Brienne squeezed her eyes shut as she jerked against him, twisting and turning, both trying to escape and get more of his rough touch. A particularly hard pull had her shouting and he quickly cupped his mouth overs hers. Her cries shook against his tongue as he continued his harsh, head-spinning nipple play. 

“In me,” she gasped, rocking against his hips. He wished she’d stop because he was so hard and in great pain but fuck, she was breathtaking when seized by lust. “Jaime, please, oh gods—“

He cut her off with a kiss again, telling her she would get it. Brienne groaned, a lewd, sexy sound that Jaime swore not only made him harder but made his cock lengthen another inch. She buried her fingers in his silken hair and kissed him back. He wrenched his lips away from her to demand, “Tell me. What do you want me to do?”

Her beautiful eyes were watery. “Husband, please— _inside._ ”

“Say it again.”

“Inside. Jaime. Inside me, please, please.”

As she chanted, he soothed her nipples with wet, nibbling kisses before taking them in his mouth and sucking rudely, loudly. His name was a broken, beautiful sound from her throat as he pressed kiss upon kiss on her pink-flushed breasts, not stopping until her nipples were swollen and peaking eagerly toward him for more and more. He was addicted to her taste, a combination of woman and vanilla. He shoved her garment up as he bit gently on her abs, leaving pink-purple kisses on her skin as he lowered his head. 

He stuck his fingers under the waistband of her pajamas and tugged. She was wearing underwear. Amidst the scent of home and sea salt around them was the hot perfume of her arousal. He swallowed upon stripping the flimsy garment off her, seeing the silver tangles of her lust making it stick to her cunt. Jaime almost came then and there and he had to fight to center himself, cling harder to his control. Seven Hells, she was soaked. Her bush was dark. Glistening. He spread her legs roughly and inhaled, willingly getting intoxicated by her sweet, secret musk. 

Brienne clutched the pillow and bit her lip as he unleashed wildfyre-hot kisses on her cunt. He licked her, slurped, relished catching the wet threads of her arousal with the tip of his tongue. Though dark, she saw the his lips shiny with her honey. Red spread throughout her body as he buried his tongue in her, soon followed by his fingers. She turned, squirming, not because she didn’t want his touch but it was too much. Jaime’s grin was dark as she inadvertently got herself in a position that left the other side of her body vulnerable. 

“We don’t have lube, wife. But I hope you like this anyway,” he told her before pushing the firm, plump cheeks of her buttocks apart to flick his tongue at the pink rosette in between. Brienne squealed, caught herself and stuffed her pillow in her mouth. He buried his nose in between, his head spinning from the fragrance only _he_ knew. He kissed and licked, breathed fast as her muffled wails filled the night. His cock strained in his pants with every poke of his tongue inside her. As he lost himself in her unique flavour, he slid his fingers back in her cunt. There was a definitive rip from the pillowcase. He smirked and pushed his tongue deeper inside, his fingers fucking her harder. Squirming, writhing, Brienne realized quickly that every time she moved, however she moved, she was fucking herself on his fingers and tongue at the same time. 

She came trembling a few seconds later and he sighed, his own body still taut with tension but more than willing to take things further and longer. Limp and suddenly weak, it was easy to roll her on her back. Her body, muscled and gleaming with sweat, was an athlete's wet dream, he thought admiringly. He dragged his pants just past his buttocks, leaned over and guided his cock toward her cunt. She was overflowing with her honey. _So fucking soft._.

Brienne gasped, her back bowing and his head fell back.

 _“How are you still so tight?”_ He demanded, genuinely curious. Brienne had his cock inside her more times than not. His mind reeled to all those nights when he rode her hard, _almost every night_. The mornings he roused her awake from between her legs. The weekends, those glorious hours before dawn when he captured her gasps and mewls, fucked her until they were too limp and had to stagger to breakfast, for their children. She had given birth to children. Fuck, but she still gripped him like a merciless vise. He reared back then lunged forward, hard. _Wonder if she's amenable to lunchtime fucks,_ he thought, already flooded with images of Brienne on his desk, or on her desk, pink, wet and screaming. His meal. His favorite dessert. He angled his hips differently and she screeched.

“Jaime!” 

_“I’m the luckiest bastard in Westeros,”_ he gasped, surging desperately against her, into her. 

She thrust against him. “Please.”

His control rapidly slipping, he stilled her. “Slow.” 

She shook her head and grabbed him. “I want you now.”

He loved having her hands on his buttocks but he yanked them away. Glaring at her playfully, he reared back again then pushed in with agonizing slowness.

 _“Ooh, Jaime. . .”_ she cooed. 

“Yes.” 

He continued riding her easily, slowly. She may be wet and soft but her cunt wouldn’t yield right away. _Punishingly tight._ No matter. He could look in her outraged eyes forever, listen to her startled gasps as he wrung and brought her pleasure with every painfully slow stroke. Her face was scrunched tight but he was hard, and getting harder, just from looking at her. He fucked her even more slowly. He looked down at where they were joined, at his cock slick and dripping with her honey.

“Jaime, oh gods.” Her sob was a thick, wet sound. 

“Just Jaime, love.” 

“More,” she begged, her hips moving frantically. This time the bed groaned under them and she froze. 

He smirked at her.“Trust me, wife.” 

“You’re so evil, you know that?”

He chuckled and continued his tender assault. Brienne wept. “Jaime, please.”

He could get drunk on the wonderful, pleading noises she was making. Could not get enough how his languid pace was unraveling her so beautifully. But his control began to slip and he groaned, slowly giving in to his body's demands. She begged, shrieked, _“Oh, gods, Jaime, yes-yes-yes-yes!”_

It was a lance to the quiet of the night. Jaime smirked but he kissed her again to smother her cries, his tongue dancing against hers. The bed was loud enough but they could manage, he thought, so long as he didn’t fuck her in that usual, delicious rough way. He didn’t want her screams to draw unwanted attention to them, though it was indeed a huge ego boost when she did.

Sweat dotted his forehead and slid down his back as he strained and struggled to fuck her carefully, gently, so as to soften the squeaks of the bed. But she was clearly not having any of that. Her legs climbed to his sides before wrapping around his waist. She tore her lips away from his kiss to look at him, her eyes silver-black with hunger as she forced him to move in a rapid, breathtaking pace that nearly had his own eyes crossing at how glorious it felt. He surrendered to her, fucking her hard and fast. The squeaking got louder until they were annoying, metallic whines. Though both were on the verge, Jaime forced himself to stop.

 _“What are you doing?”_ Brienne snapped, a deep, vivid pink all over. He almost laughed if not for the tension gripping him.

“Don’t move.”

“What?”

He grabbed her legs and spread them wide. He let himself bask in the sight of her cunt so wet, so pink and swollen before flattening his hands under her hard thighs and grunting at her again to stay still. She looked mutinous, so sexy and he groaned as he hardened impossibly. Gasping, he told her to hold on, to what, he didn’t care, but she was going to stay still and she had to trust him to do all the fucking.

Her whisper was sweet, her voice shaky with desire. “Okay, Jaime.”

He kissed her passionately. “Gods, I love you so much.”

They resumed fucking—Brienne’s nails digging the edge of the couch as Jaime, keeping her thighs spread and flat with his hands, moved in slow, measured strokes. That softened the bed, somewhat, but not completely. Brienne drank the sight of him—slick with sweat, beautiful in the silver night. She knots and tangled strings, her breath chirping out of her constricted lungs. She couldn’t stop herself from begging him again, to take her, really take her. Jaime, feeling that he was less than a couple of strokes away from finding release, let go of one of her thighs and pressed his fingers against her clit. Brienne shot off the couch, eyes rolling to the back of her head.

Jaime managed a tight smile. “Hells, wife.  
”  
_“Jaime, please!”_ She begged him again.

It took all of his control to get her to come first. It was worth it. She jerked and rippled violently, as if her body were limp and tossed in a stormy sea. Still keeping his fingers on her clit, he joined her, fucking her five more times before his name was torn from her lips. Jaime couldn’t stop the cry unleashed from his throat as his own release followed mere moments later. As they came down from the high, he kissed her sweaty forehead, pressed himself closer to her, clutched her before slumping heavily on top of her. She sighed happily, playing with the sweat-dampened locks of his hair. He rose on his elbows and kissed her long and deep on the mouth before rolling to his side. They were covered in each other's sweat.

“Well,” she said, still panting. “I guess slow is good too.”

“Really worth it to get you so desperate for my cock,” Jaime agreed, handing her back the pants. He simply pulled up his pants from his knees while Brienne pushed one leg inside then another. She lowered her tank from where it was gathered at her throat. Jaime tossed away his damp shirt. 

He opened his arms and she snuggled to his chest, breathing it in the warm, musky smell of his skin, rubbing her nose against the still-damp curls on his chest. Jaime smiled sleepily at her motions, wishing he could take her again right away. Fucking Brienne slowly had taken a lot more effort than he thought. He made a mental reminder to fuck her this way again once they got home. 

As he drifted to sleep, Brienne, yawning, muttered, “I thought we weren’t going to fuck outside our bedroom for now, husband.” She put an arm around his waist and buried her face in the nook between his armpit and chest. Her legs hung past the edge of the sofa bed so she curled them.

He tightened his hold on her. “You did ask me to fuck you by the Sunset Sea.”

She giggled. “What an honourable man you are.”

Despite being sleepy, his grin was still smug. “Of course. I’m no oathbreaker.” 

“You sure are not.” 

Jaime, just a few breaths away from sleep, murmured, “Tell me, wife.”

Brienne pushed herself up and looked at him, boyish in his approaching slumber. Her heart clenched in a way that it only did with him. Placing her lips near his ear, she whispered, “I love you, Jaime.”

He smiled, his eyes closed and she kissed him before returning to his arms. Heavy weights pressed on her eyelids so she closed them. 

“Tell me again, wife.”

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder from the Captain: clean your mouth first after rimming before kissing. It's common courtesy and hygienic. But since this is fanfic, it's alright. :-)


	13. Good Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Super fluff alert!

Years of waking up early in the morning meant Tywin had no need for an alarm clock. He plucked out the buds from his ears as he sat up, yawning. A couple of stretches here and there and he felt ready for the day. He threw on a robe and eagerly went to check on his grandsons.

The children were still asleep—it was still early, anyway. Tywin smiled tenderly at their golden heads and gentle, sleeping forms. Except for the blue eyes, the boys had all taken after their father. He remembered a time from very long ago, when he felt the same excitement on mornings like this so he checked on a sleeping Jaime. The children even slept like their father—half on their side, half on their stomach. It looked like an uncomfortable, twisting position but they were breathing evenly, unstirring as the floorboards creaked under Tywin’s weight when he walked to the door.

To get to the kitchen he had to pass by the den. Deliberately, he softened his steps approaching the room. 

There it was. The unmistakable rustle of a blanket and the slight squeak from the sofa bed. His ears picked up Jaime’s sleepy rumblings, soon followed by Brienne’s deep, slow sighs. For the first time, Tywin could feel his ears flushing as Jaime’s voice reached him. 

“Open your legs,” he said softly. “I want you.”

“Not so loud—“ Brienne’s protest was interrupted by a wet sound that Tywin knew too well. A long, satisfied sigh reached him, followed by the familiar sound of bodies brushing each other, skins meeting, mouths colliding. Then Jaime uttered something shockingly vulgar that had Brienne, even more surprising, groaning in agreement. _Good gods, that was probably the secret to Brienne birthing twins twice._ Tywin quickly retreated back to his room, not wanting to know anything more about the private moments shared between his son and his wife.

He gave it ten minutes, then two more before he deemed enough time had passed for Jaime and Brienne to finish that morning ritual of theirs. He headed for the den, just in time to see Brienne sit up with her back to him. Jaime followed, kissing her shoulders and nape, still talking. 

Tywin was hungry and damn them if they were going to keep him from breakfast any longer. “Good morning,” he said casually as he walked past.

Brienne gasped and whirled around to face him, stammering a greeting. Tywin didn’t need his glasses to know what had just happened. Jaime, unperturbed, shot back with a too-cheerful reply. Tywin continued his way to the kitchen.

Genna was already there, wearing headphones and in the midst of cooking a big breakfast. She looked relieved upon seeing him. “Oh, thank the gods. Are they done?”

Tywin was shocked. “How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough. You were good to advise me about these.” She said, gesturing at her headphones before sliding them off. “I managed to put them on last night just as I was hearing them going at it. Very vigorous couple, they are.” She winked at Tywin before turning on the blender. “It’s a good thing Brienne is no delicate lily. I’m surprised they only have four children.”

“Good morning,” Jaime’s voice rang out. He looked happy and smug, the embodiment of the Lion of Lannister despite his robe and pajamas. He had Jason and Michael in his arms. “Need any help, Aunt Genna?”

“Could you wash the strawberries? I’m making strawberry pancakes.” 

“My favorite!” Jaime exclaimed as he set the twins down on chairs next to their grandfather. Genna beamed at him.

“Hello, good morning,” Brienne’s breathless voice called out from the door. Ty was in her arms, yawning, while Drew was already wide awake and following behind her. Her hair was now brushed back though there her eyes were still heavy-lidded and her face a deep pink. “Oh, is that coffee?”

“Help yourself, dear.” Genna offered.

Genna and Tywin exchanged a look as they noticed Jaime squinting at Brienne as she bent to put Ty on a chair. Brienne was wearing a bulky robe so there wasn’t much to see. Jaime clearly thought otherwise. His gaze was that of a starving man. Then Brienne turned around, clearly unaware of her effect on her husband and asked Genna for what she could do. Genna asked her to set the table.

Breakfast was filled with much passing around of food, lively conversation and laughter. Genna couldn’t stop doting on the children, and she wished in her mind that her son would grow up and find a girl so she could have her own grandchildren. Tywin caught Jaime and Brienne exchanging a tender, intimate look and found himself missing Joanna. He had looked at her in the same way too, in that disbelieving, admiring way. He wished she were beside him now, seeing what he was seeing. 

Brienne surprised Jaime and everyone when she brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. Once again clueless of her effect on people, she resumed eating and turning to her children, each demanding her attention. She made sure to listen and give her full focus on all four.

It was such an ordinary thing yet nothing had ever been so with Brienne. She made the mundane so intriguing and compelling to watch. And as she got up to get the pot of coffee because everyone needed a refill, Jaime’s eyes were once again drawn to her. She was not graceful, she would never be fluid nor smooth yet everything about her called to him—perhaps even sang to him. He would never know why, Jaime thought, smiling at her when she returned carrying the pot. She smiled back.

But one thing Jaime knew was this: every day, there was another reason to fall harder in love with his Brienne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're at the end! I enjoyed writing this! Thank you for your comments and kudos! 
> 
> I SHIP JAIME AND BRIENNE! *It has to be said, and I remain hopeful about Season 6.

**Author's Note:**

> I see Lannisport as a small but rich city several hours away from King's Landing.  
> Casterly Rock is the manor where Jaime grew up.  
> Westernet is the internet service in Westeros.


End file.
